Under my umbrella Ella Ella..

My mom goes for a walk every morning. She is quite popular, really. Everyone who takes strolls like she does says hello when they cross path. She comes back with stories like Mrs. A is not in good terms with her daughter in law or Mr. B's son is a dentist in Brisbane and he gave him about rm50k as angpow moneh during last cny. Geesh! No wonder she likes going for walks. There are so much goss to hear! (I wonder what she tells them of me? Hmmm..)

Anyways..this post is not to highlight an episode of 'Gossip Girls'. It is about how on a particular morning, she headed out for her usual stroll despite the gloomy clouds threatening to pour at any minute. She thought she could break her own record of snail walking with the aide of her tongkat. Much to her chagrin, droplets of rain did begin to fall and she probably had to walk pass another 50 houses before she reached ours. With her 'speed', it would take,maybe 10 minutes, and she would surely be drenched by then. I wonder if she muttered any profanities under her breath at this point of time.

And then...poot poot. A lady honked and told her to hop into her car. My ma declined.(still wanna be heroic). "You will fall sick!" the lady insisted. But my ma still didn't hop in. Maybe she secretly wanted to play in the rain.

The lady gave up in persuading. And just then, another man came out from his house with an umbrella. "Take this! We are not as strong as the young ones! If we fall sick, jiau cham laa." This time my mom accepted the help offered. And she came back feeling very paiseh.

I thought they were very nice encounters. These are affluent folks. It's good to know they have a heart.

And then it was my turn...

Yesterday, I went to the pasar malam. Dropped my mom off while I looked for a place to park. She took the umbrella with her. And I decided to get off the car to help her carry the heavy fruits once I found a place to park. I alighted and felt rains on my head and shoulder. But only for a while because a moment later, I realized I was under the umbrella of an unknown lady. I was a little embarrassed and gave her a smile while inching away. She said, "it's ok. Come share the umbrella. I'm heading the same way."

Despite being a rainy night, I felt warmth. In my heart. In my soul.

Let's sing Rihanna's 'Under my Umbrella' , shall we?

Car rides

I have two best friends whom I have known for over 20 years. We hung out at the school canteen, and subsequently at Modesto's and Brannigans.Of us three, I was the last to get a driving license. Hence I was always driven during those clubbing days.

And then we all started working as astronauts, and I started driving my space rocket. Even then whenever we went out, they'd offer me a ride. Of course, my house is also strategically located. It's always on the way to wherever we were heading.

Even now, I realised whenever we want to go makan, they'd automatically plan to pick me up first before heading to the destination - which they don't really have to. But of course they are thinking that I am often a single lady with a kiddo, and now with a bump (unless when Papah is around).. It's not really safe for me to drive at night. (Their hubs usually drive.)

But then again, even when it's day time, they'd come by my house so I can hop into their car.

Maybe they just don't mind driving. Maybe they don't even know why they come and pick me up as it has been kinda like a routine for 15 years? I donch know.

But..having friends like this makes life beautiful.

I am sho sho sho blessed.

Regression

Reflecting on the mini misadventure I had (driving with no money), a friend for the first time ever, didn't loe-tim me but offered a very sound advice - to fold a Rm10 bill into the bosom the wallet and never use it unless it's an emergency.

I began to think - why am I so sloppy?

I don't withrawl money.

I don't pick up phone calls.

I don't reply sms-es.

I don't charge my flat phone batteries.

I'm not bothered with emails.

Gah! What's happening to me? I'm in regression.. I'm rolling back to the 60s, eshewing technologies!

I had an i-phone which served more like a camera because nobody ever called me because everyone met at the park and talked. Little do I know that I am more popular now, here, (ahem!) that I really have to nip this nasty habit of not utilising my phone here, and try to be more in touch with people.

Sounds like I have been living in a cave.

I'm a fairly independent person but only when things are convienient.

Things were convienient in Bangkok. I hailed a taxi wherever I go. Papah got his claims in cash, and we always had money in the milo tin, under the bed, next to the spittoon. So we didn't have to drive out, double park, triple park, look left, look right, key in the wrong password, key in the right password, say a prayer, climb into the car, lock the door - all in the name of getting a measly RM50 lunch money.

And the company staff paid the bills. So how do you expect me to double park, triple park at the post office, press a number and waste half an hour of my precious life to pay for all the utility bills?

Of course there is online banking...but RHB sucks big time for online transactions.

I know.. they are all excuses. I have been so spoilt for the last 5 years.

Looks like I just have to grow up.

Driving with no money

Yesterday we were invited to a birthday party. I used the tollway and as I unzipped my wallet, I realised that I have left my stash of million dollars at home. Shoot! Paid the RM1.50 with two notes and muttered to myself not to use any tollway on the way home.

We were one of the last few guests to leave. When we did leave, I took a wrong turn which lead me to desserted roads.. Double Shoooot!

...I followed the Road Signs to Sri Kembangan.. Bukit Kommonweatlh..while muttering, "Oh God Oh God..." and of course, "Quiet, Gooly.. I need to drive us home without using any toll ways..."

Finally, we came to Puchong, and I do know fairly well that I would reach home using the LDP. Only one toll to pay- RM1.60. Dare I rummage through my wallet for some more loose coins?

Of course I had to, manuevering with one hand, digging with the other while praying with a brain numbed from fear.. and I found -

One Rm1 note, 2 twenty cents, 1 ten cent, and 2 five cents - a total of RM1.60. No more, no less.

What d'ya say to that? :)

Thank you GOD, of course!

Fark it lah

Sometimes we get so bored/fed up with things/people in life that we say FARK IT LAH and heave a sigh of relief because we just don't want to care anymore.

Like this*:

Your hubby is cheating on you AGAIN. Fark it lah!

Your wife is gambling your fortune away. Fark it lah!

Your 1st child steals from your bag. Fark it lah!

Your brother is wearing your BCBG dress. Fark it lah!

Your bestie sleeps with your ex. Fark it lah!

Your maid wears a towel and walks around the house. Fark it lah!

Your dog pees on your bed every nite. Fark it lah!

Your business is very lingkup. Fark it lah!

Your bunny is pregnant again. Fark it lah!

Your good friends gossip about you. Fark it lah!

Your boss gave you a 0.001% salary increment. Fark it lah!


Farkitfarkitfarkitfarkitfarkitfarkit...

A brief moment of liberty/bliss when you fark it all.

The problem is when accumalated into a list like that.. it just gives you a sense of despair and hopelessness for giving up so many times in life.

*list extracted from "The Suicidal Hamster".

Lesson learned: Don't say fark it. Say knn baggero ccb..

Pet peeves

There are a number of things which irk me in life. Here's the list in random order:
a) flies on rubbish, food, corpses
b) people who dig the nose in public
c) people who dig the nose in public and roll the boogers into balls and flick them
d) chicken breasts
e) chinese parsley a.k.a poison
f) play dough not in the right coloured container
g) taugeh in curry mee
h) robbers, i mean cops, i mean robbers. Same difference!
i) the Sun on a hot day
j) stupidity (mine included)
k) hypocrisy

This shall be updated from time to time. Why do I think you want to know my pet peeves? I'm hoping that you will spread the news so I don't have to get irritated that often. Thanks in advance for your co-operation.

Pool stories

Gooly and I resumed our swimming activity after a short break. We went to the pool and met another father/son squad.

Dad threw boy into the adult pool without a float. Next he threw in a stone. Kaploink! Jr. dunked his head under to search for it.

I am equally amazed and appalled because Jr. is only three. Gooly is three too and he swims with an unsinkable float. Sometimes I get him to use the kicking board to for extra safety measure. I am always at arm's length within his reach.

Meanwhile, the man swims away from Jr. who is left alone at the ADULT pool. I couldn't bear to stay in case I witness my first drowning misadventure of a child, whose dad was probably too gung ho about the upcoming Olympic Games.

Here's news to dad - there is no Under 3 event.

What Lonely Planet Thailand doesn't tell you

Do you know that Thai men become monks at least once in their lifetime so that their parents could go to heaven? The robe that they wear during monk hood is presented to the parents. It serves like the ticket to The Land of Glory. I like the idea though I am not a Buddhist believer. It highlights the ultimate filial piety where the offsprings actually do something to ensure the parents' admission.

This is the one of the few things I like about Thai cultures. Another will be the greeting of 'wai' where one clasps both hands together and bows the head slightly. It is a very gentle mannerism. When Gooly was younger, he did the cutest 'wai'. His bow was way too low, about 90 degrees but it was awfully cute.

In Thailand, or at least in the Mooban I stay in, everyone practices 'what's yours is mine and vice versa. It's a bit overwhelming when the nong comes over with dirty hands and dips in the bag of chips you will no longer enjoy. Nonetheless, it's a charming culture. When Gooly goes cycling, my dear neighbour insists that I take her bicycle so I could cycle side by side, instead of chasing after him. Though I must say her act of kindness often causes sore bum (the seat is adjusted too high)but I know not to complain when one is being exceptionally sweet.

Speaking of sweetness, Thais have a strong liking for sugar. I once witnessed a young chap scooping eight teaspoons of sugar into his bowl of soup noodles. Yup, soup noodles. I don't even put that much of saccharine into their rightful places; my daily cups of coffee. Along with the sugar are chili oil, vinegar and soya sauce. Scoop those in and you have a err.. nice bowl of sweet, salty, sour, spicy soup noodles. They also like fried stuff; pork, chicken, crickets, fish, prawns. Ronald's fast food restaurant are always jam packed. I don't know how the Thais fare in the health department but I sure don't see many horizontally challenged individuals around. The irony of life.

Thailand is famous for its other name, The Land of Smiles. Sure, they can be friendly. Like the cab driver who asked me my name and shamelessly wonders aloud how much is my husband's salary. This is the time the mobile becomes really handy. Get busy dialing numbers or lunge it at the 'friendly' driver.

Once in a while, you do meet the not so friendly locals. They are usually the cranky sales persons who bark, NO TOUCH NO TOUCH or NO SAI NO SAI (no size no size). Sometimes I want to tell them, "I was really in a mood to splurge but not anymore". Of course, "Me many money. You no get business" will be better understood. Then I imagine speeding (I admit I am a coward) off looking for a cab while deciding to pray for a friendly or non-friendly one. It will be just my rotten luck to get one who tells me,"Traffic jam..no go." This man I can categorise under "leisure worker". The same for the chicken rice seller who runs out of rice at lunch time and decides NOT to cook extra but to close the stall, I reiterate at 1pm.

Welcome to Thailand.

Some people never change. neither will I

With FB and MSN, digging up old long lost friends is just a click away. These past months I have indeed been keeping in touch with a handful of them.

After weeks of chats, I realised why they were "lost' friends. They have not changed one bit. Mr A is still a Casanova. Mr. B is still a workaholic. Ms X is still ignorantly dense. And yours truly is still judgmental.

Mind you, not that I am proud of it. It's just that I realised some things and some people never change, including me. Part of me feel consoled that my decisions to abandon those friendships eons ago were right on the spot because of how they were. On the other hand, I feel fairly disappointed that they are the same.

I mean shouldn't we have grown up and be better persons, for humankind? I wish Mr. A will find true love, Mr. B will spend more time with his family and Ms. X.. Is there a cure for stupidity? :P

OK.. I need to change too. I shall be less judgmental on my next blog. I shall try.

To school or not to school

Of late we have received remarks as such: "Isn't it time to send Gooly to school?" and "How come Gooly is not in school yet?"

The more subtle suggestion will be, "There is a new school behind the soi, you know?"

The more subtle one will be, "School buses come this way, you know?"

OK.. since they told me, I have to know, right? Succumbing to pressure and curiosity, I decided to check out some international schools online. Lo and behold! I realised that you have to have ten jobs to be able to send your kids to these kind of schools. Enrollment fee alone is a hefty RM10k. Did i dare to scroll down for tuition fees? Double the amount I told you and you will get the estimation. I am not talking about a year's fees. That's for a term.

3 months.

70 odd days.

Excluding sick days.

Yes, they have a cool swimming pool but I suppose soaking in the bath tub is equally fun. They follow the British curriculum. I think I can fake Cockney English when desperate. So what they incorporate fun learning? Gooly can have fun even in the store room (Note: I don't live in Austria and the store room is not underground or padded).

At the end of the day, I have to find 10 jobs and blog for income, eat bread for eternity (not bad an idea considering my current non-ideal weight), start searching for friends who owe me 50 cents for the unpaid nasi lemak 10 years ago and start auctioning my bags.

Either that or I could keep Gooly in the house and me, insane for another year.

Do you think I can secure 10 + 1 part time jobs by next year?

Another option of course will be: PACK AND LEAVE THIS BLOOD SUCKING, THEY DON'T CARE ABOUT MY CHILD'S EDUCATION COUNTRY.

Bah! Meanwhile donations are welcome ;-)

An owl was born

I am not a morning person. It's euphoric for me to wake in pitch dark and realise that I have a good few hours to continue my slumber. And when I finally do wake, my body and brain need extra minutes to adjust to the new dawn, though it's really way after dawn that I wake. I could have been a bear in my past life - a bear which died not getting the next hibernation, and is reclaiming all the snoozes at present life, as me. And like a bear, I growl when disturbed....especially when my internal clock has not rung.

God is humorous if you asked me. Maybe He has an extra jar of joke which he disposed last minute, right before Gooly was born. He made Gooly wakeful. As wakeful as an owl. He wrapped the little owlet and handed it to the sleepy-head mom. The owlet would only go to sleep when he knew he was the last one to do so in the household. It was a battle of who slept last, in which he was always the champion.

As he grew, he transformed into a joey which literally springs out of bed the moment he wakes. He is the opposite of the sleepy-head mum. His eyes, limbs, brain need no time to chill. His mouth even wakes before anything else. "What should we do now" he'd ask, with his eyes closed though it will only take seconds for the latter to function fully.

And so for the past three years, we didn't need an alarm clock. Gooly would gladly do the job for us. It is not an easy job because Mahmee hibernates, remember? Sometimes I'd tell him it's too early to wake (for my standard). But he got smarter because he'd lament that he is hungry. Now what kind of mother would deny the son food? Not even a sleepy one, right?

And so I'd lunge my sorry bum out of my SULTANAH IKEA mattress and fix him the easiest meal.

With a sour face.. no smiles, no cheery conversations.

Selfishly, I have wanted him to accept that I am not a cheery person in the morning, that I am a -leave-me-alone mahmee before pm. I have failed to realise that I am the one who needs to change. I am the one who should accept his zesty approach to life.

Luckily for me, he told me so this morning. He woke and tried to wake me. I forgot what I did but he was standing next to me, tearing. It wasn't a bawl, just silent tears which broke my heart. I asked if he had a tummy ache.

But I suppose what I did was even more painful than a gastronomical discomfort. "You frowned at me", my little boy said. And right there and then, I made a solemn vow never to frown at him, especially over something as trivial as sleep. It seems trivial to me now, at least.

I now think God is wise and humorous. In subtle, ironic ways, I am told that I need to change. My little messenger is telling me that I shouldn't waste a glorious morning in bed.

I shall go buy a spring to attach to my bum later.

Good Morning Everyone!!

Once upon a long long time ago..

When I was thin.. hang on.. I was never thin.. Let's start over. When I was thin-ner, I used to wear halternecks and dresses. Walking in heels was excruciating but not a problem. Mascara, eyeliner, blush, lipstick - they were always in order. Handphone the size of err.. a pencil case (not a small one either) was tucked into either the back pocket of Levis or mini handbags.

All cross- checked, I went trit-trot-tritting across the valley to the sounds of music. In other words, discotheque/club. Gosh, are those words obsolete now? If they are not, I am sure these are: Branigans, Fire, Modesto, Arena, Jump, Beach, Boom Boom. Were you there too? Prancing and dancing to nanananan, babe give it up, babe give it up? Or YMCA, complete with the idiotic alphabeting movements?

If we wound the clock backwards a bit more, we'd be in Picadilly, where dancing in a circle was considered cool. Much much later, techno and trance music were everywhere. Headache, ear-ache but still bearable.

Fast forward to life at present in Bangkok. Superbed Club, RCA. Sure, heard and read of them. But no thank you if you want a night out with me. I have aged gracefully. But just a note to Gooly; Mahmee was hip and happening before. ;-)

To love and be loved a thousand times more

I found a copy of The Kite Runner under my bed and read it in 2 days. It's a sad tale of love, friendship, kinship, betrayal , loyalty, war and the aftermath of it - all the essence to make it a good, make it a VERY good and satisfying read. I devoured it like a vulture would a carcass. A few times I just let the tears flow. My most poignant memory of the story was when one of the two protagonists challenged the other, his loyalty, by asking, "Would you really do that for me?" (I will not spoil the storyline by telling what he had requested)

"For you, a thousand times more" was the reply.

It's like he would cross the ocean a thousand times, love a thousand times, and die a thousand times, if that is what he should do. Such profound love.

I imagine a mother uttering that to her child, a lover to another lover, a loyal friend to another friend , a wife to her husband and my husband to me.

Of course I have also learned to say, "For you, a thousand times more, Gooly. Whatever that you want me to do." Only when we can say these words with all our hearts and to receive them in return that I think we have lived our lives with no regrets.

Aiseh man..

Life exists for a reason. While some people think their life is dedicated to noble and heroic acts such as saving planet earth or protecting endangered species, right at the other end of the spectrum is a group of nincompoops whose sole existence on earth is to inject harsh remarks in their daily conversations, aimed to annoy, irritate, cause misery to the other conversant, for their own merryment.

For instance, exhibit A will say, "Wah, you so fat already!" to exhibit B, after a 15 seconds preamble of hellos. If exhibit B was Sawisekilo, who is well known to have a laser mouth (imagine her words lashed out from her mouth in neon lights), I'd say good luck to exhibit A.

Just the other day, a sub-species of the nasty kind commented, "Aiyo, why you cut your hair so short? You look so much better in long hair." Sawisekilo cleverly retorted, "My husband likes it so much."

Whooot! And thus, we should be prepared at all times for such ill remarks.

Example A: "You so fat already." This can be countered by saying, "Yes, this new diet finally worked for me."

Example B: "What is wrong with your face? So many pimples." Your retort could be, "Yalor, too much ginseng and abalone. Too heaty"

Never mind that they don't make sense because these nincompoops will never get it anyways. They will walk away in daze, not knowing what hit them. They will probably think of something to say, about 48 hours later. By then, we will be sipping coffee and devising yet another repartee. Whoot whoot wooray!

When silence kills..

Some people are argumentative. They like to superimpose their ideas. I am quite the contrary. If you thought Brad Pitt is hot and I thought my armpit can be hotter, I won't be holding a debate with you to see whose opinion is more accurate.

That doesn't mean I am not opinionated. Heck, my opinions are often brimming at my cerebrum. But I know when they are wanted or otherwise. I'd listen if you have something to say. I don't have to agree with you and vice versa.

BUT if you keep on babbling about how your opinion is the SUPREME one, I'd give you the silent treatment. If you happened to have a debate with me and I'd gone uncommunicative, don't think you have succeeded in convincing me.

I am just silently hating you. Cheers!

Imagine

I am a simple person. I smile easily. I laugh easily. Especially so when with children. Unfortunately even children don't always get along. They always want the exact same thing at the same time. They push and shove. They boycott. And they spit.

Situations are exacerbated when the bully-parents snigger, or suddenly choose to live by the rule see-no-evil, hear-no-evil, speak-no-evil. It is as though they have suddenly gone blind, deaf and mute. If you feel they are ashamed and thus the silent reverie, I hate to burst your bubble. They are instead gloating, thinking that their child is some kind of superhero who again proved that he is an aggressive species and thus will SURVIVE in this dog-eat-dog world. I only have one thing to say. My son is a not a dog, and so will not behave like one.

Of course kids will be kids. They behave unexpectedly. They cannot be angels all the time. But the world will seem nicer if the parents themselves have manners and make an effort to correct a child's behavior.

Does it hurt if you tell your child to let the other boy to go on the slide first instead of ushering him to be NO.1 in line, as though the slide leads to heaven and the Pearly Gate is about to close. Let's not even try to fathom why the parent thinks the son is going to heaven.

Much to my delight, Sawisekilo shares the same sentiment. His son, WT and gooly had a great time today with squeals of laughter and bouts of silly banters.

"Is it my turn?" was answered with, "OK, go ahead." A painful cry was appeased by a gentle pat and "I am sowry." And my favourite is when the two bradders took apart a toy and shared the bits and pieces of what was once Mr. Power Ranger.

Imagine all the people, living live in peace, I quote Mr. Lennon.

And yes, you may say I'm a dreamer. But heck, I am not the only one! At least I have Sawisekilo to walk the rest of the journey of motherhood with me.

Thanks, Sawisekilo. And to the other dogs, wipe the foam off your mouth, get your rabies shot and quit spreading unwanted germs.

Chasing dreams

My closest experience with any musical instrument is the violin, which I played so mediocre-ly. I have outlined a plan. I will one day play Moonlight Sonata on the violin.

Five minutes have passed. I am still snickering at my own thought. Whilst I am daydreaming, I should push the envelope further. Let's make a list of I WILL ONE DAY:
1) play the piano
2) play golf and tennis
3) have more than one kid
4) speak French
5) be slim
6) stay in a different country for a short period of time every year
7) visit Mt Everest on a helicopter (you thought I was gonna climb it? Duh!)
8) make a snowman

ROFL. Some of the things are not too far-fetched, ie. dreams no. (2), (7) and (8). I just have to find some sponsors. Hint! Hint! However, no. (5) is .. aiyayaya. Being an astronaut seems easier considering that I have a penchant for food and sleep. Not a good combo. No. 6 is hard to achieve too. It's a tad too late to find a nomad to get married to. No. (3) seems like a cruel joke now.

Nonetheless, I am determined to dream on for "nothing happens unless first we dream." Besides, it doesn't cost anything and it sure is nice to dream when it rains. (Yeah, it's pouring outside.) Drip drip drop, drip, drip, drop - the perfect rhythm for idyllic dreams.

And so I will do a lot of things when I am 45.. or 55. The latter if I got distracted baking pies, sewing clothes, doing online business and taking pictures. At the meantime, I should do some research on Attention Deficit Hyperactivity Disorder (ADHD). It was unheard of during my kinder-years. You think I may have ADHD?

Nah.. I am just a dreamer albeit only on rainy days.. : )

Tears welled up

A couple of years back, I took violin lessons for a very little while. The instrument remains dusty in a hidden corner but I hope to play a better version of Twinkle Twinkle Little Stars and beyond in future. I do not know much about music. Heck, I only know the words scales and arpeggios after watching Disney's Aristocats. Nonetheless, I enjoy music, often listening with my heart. When I drive my head bobs to the tune played on the cds (never the radio cos they play thrash.) I get melancholic when the tune softens. Today someone posted this video of a little Korean girl who plays the piano despite the odds - she was born blind. Of course I was drenched in tears towards the end of the clip. Watch it, hear it, feel it. Then.. look at the world differently for little Ye Eun can't see, but we can. Let's paint a nicer picture of humankind for her sake, huh?

http://www.youtube.com/watch?v=ntReE2n15bo

Serendipity

According to my trusted Wikipedia, serendipity is the effect by which one accidentally discovers something fortunate while looking for something else entirely. Say you are looking for the famous roti canai stall and got lost. Feeling too hungry to explore further, you decide to eat at the next stop and it turns out to be the best nasi kandar you have ever tasted. What a pleasant surprise. It is so pleasant that I think I should just psyche myself to stoicism, just so I become indifferent about everything only to be surprised later by new discoveries. To put it simply, I should head to Starbucks strictly for coffee, and (not) wait for serendipity to happen. Perchance another mummy will find me amusing and want to be friends. But then I read about Peter Mcwilliams who thinks," in reality serendipity accounts for one percent of blessings we received in life, work and love. The other 99% is due to our efforts. " So how, brown cow? I could be waiting forever for serendipity to happen. I should just smile and say hello, huh? And someone I know should really head down to THE GOOD GUYS. ; ) Efforts, my friend..

Sometimes angels don't have wings

We should believe in angels. With or without wings. When Gooly cried for the first time, I thought he sounded like an angel singing. And he was so fair that he was glowing and I remember thinking, "all that's missing are the wings", though I'd probably freak out if there were any.

Yes, I could probably be high on whatever the anesthetician jabbed me on my back, three times. But it was a beautiful moment.

Papah was the only one who saw Gooly's blue eyes. Yes, newborns have blue eyes because melanin, the brown pigment molecule hadn't been deposited in the irises of the eyes then. I wish I hadn't missed that 10 seconds precious moment.

Papah was not delusional because the only jab he got was from Mahmee to wake him up. Neither was he anticipating blue-coloured eyes because he wasn't aware of the Melanin thingy, and of course both of us do not have cat-like eyes.

So picture this, fair-skin that glowed, cried as though singing, blue eyes.

An angel was born indeed to our blessed family.

However, when the eyes turned dark brown, his cries louder and more frequent, we changed our minds. : P Then he'd do something that would make us change our minds again. This little tyke likes playing who-is the-angel-now, probably because our brain waves look too linear to him. Thus, it is a pendulum opinion which sways between tyrant and angel. Most fortunately, today we have another angelic moment. While reading a story on farm animals, Mahmee mentioned about sheep shearing, of how a farmer would shear off the fleece to make wools. A concerned he asked, "Does it hurt? Is that a nice thing to do?" I checked. No wings sprouted but it's ok. He's still a kind and thoughtful angel to Mahmee..