BASF Science Lab 2017: MuffinThe Young Scientist

JED love science.

They love science experiments which we used to do a lot of even before they started proper science in school. When they were able to read and we inherited a whole bunch of kid science magazines, they devoured it and there were magazines all through the house. All. Over. The. Place.


I credit the science programme they did in kindy for this early curiosity and I love that they surprise me with random bits of information.

To be honest, I'm not entirely sure if it helps them in school but the point is in the fun.

It's Muffin's turn to be mad about science.

His favourite things about science.
1. Experiments.
The most fun ingredients for experiments are baking soda, detergent, vinegar. Lots of fizzing, lots of foaming and very very clean bathroom floors after that.

2. Muffin also loves Bill Nye the Science Guy. Bill Nye is irreverent, physically comedic and makes it over the top hilarious. There's an episode on life cycles that he loves and watches ad nauseum and chuckles when Bill Nye goes "Birth, Life, Death!"

3. Science magazines and books
All over the house, there are science comics and books. And when I mean, all over the house, it is everywhere, under the bed, under the pillow, in the bathroom, all over the dining table, everywhere. But he's constantly reading, thinking and popping up with weird questions that I now deputise his brother and sister to deal with.

4. More experiments!
We sometimes get the opportunity to go for science camps and labs. The twins went BASF Kids Lab last year and we brought Muffin too but he hid behind Packrat most of the time. He was intimidated by his siblings being there and able to answer all the questions, he was intimidated by all the older kids there that he didn't want to do any of the experiments.

This year, we were invited to the preview again. Since it was smack in the middle of exams for the two who actually do study science, I sent Muffin alone with his friend. Out of the shadows of his siblings and with his trusty best friend, the two boys had a rocking good time.

They got to dress like researchers, they got to record their findings and make oobleck (which is ALWAYS ALWAYS fun) and they got to meet Dr Bubbles; who in Muffin's opinion was Bill Nye!

Dr Bubbles a.k.a. Bill Nye!

Muffin wants to do the Discovery Science Camp during the June break like his siblings did. I'm saving that one though, when I need him in 'day-care' during a vacation and this June, we don't need that yet. He's also advocating for the BASF Kids' Lab to all his friends because he discovered there's a repeat session of what he did in June. This child, if he can't be a scientist, can sell things next time. Quite the marketer. 

So for those who have sciencey kids and want a day of science activity during the coming break, sign up and make oobleck and meet Dr Bubbles!

These spots go fast though so make like the wind and sign up.

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The child becomes the teacher

Muffin has effectively completed the first term of Primary One. He's doing okay. He takes on everything with his usual cheeky outlook on life. Like his siblings before him, he isn't too big on homework.

Being the third child through primary education with older siblings whose academic demands regularly floor me, he ends up drawing the short end of the straw. On so many occasions, I've forgotten the spelling and ting xie and remember only to ask him the day after it's tested in school.

So I try to remember.

If I forget, I deputise one of the twins to go through his spelling with him. That often sends him to tears because there is actually something worse than the tiger mom. The Tiger Sister who is stricter and more demanding than the mom. She will berate him in a tone worthy of the Tiger Mom and lay down her strict expectations of his corrections.

But that's where the difference ends.

Unlike the Tiger Mom, the Tiger Sis will be taken in by his tears. She will cave and will try and carry  him. That's when she'll change her tact and surprisingly coax him into trying again. She's has also learnt that yelling at him doesn't work so she tries to be a little bit more encouraging so that she doesn't have to deal with his tears.

His worksheets then end up having encouraging words planted all over like her teacher does for her, I suppose. And she gets him to re-learn the spelling words he isn't clear of on the white board or with magnetic letters which I used to do for her.

In short, she has learnt some pedagogy.

He'd just as soon not do it if given the choice. His toys are still a big thing for him and he still spends long hours just re-connecting with his Lego and his Transformers toy or reading. 

So it's a fine line that we tread on. To make sure that he revises the stuff he has to for school but to give him time to read and be silly. This is where the Tiger Sis empathises with him and totally caves in; when he looks at her with puppy eyes and says he wants to just spend some time reading.

The young teacher still has much to learn.

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A $1.60 lesson

Muffin's turned 7.

How did that happen?

Anyway, he really is growing up and we're seeing signs of it everywhere.

1. He's become more shy with strangers though still extremely cheeky and rubber-faced with us.

2. At the same time, he's become more rambunctious. Rough playing with his friends and having a whale of a time.

3. He's learning to problem solve quite effectively.
When daunted, this small one finds a way around it. Faced with difficult words to spell, he doesn't give up taking down information as would have some of my other kids, he approximates. So his school diary is a hoot to read and it has to be read out loud so that we know what word he's phonologically spelled out.

4.  He's learning to be responsible.
He's also learning that whining and obsessing about a problem doesn't help him. His wallet strap broke as a result of rough-housing with his friends. I hear later that his friend is the one that broke it. But all Muffin did was to be matter-of-fact about it. He tells me his wallet strap broke and could he have $1.60 to buy a new one.

It did puzzle me how he knew it was $1.60.

His friend's mom filled in the blanks when she apologetically told me that her son broke it. Apparently, the strap broke during recess. All the boys were stunned and wondered if they were going to get into trouble or if Muffin would cry. Muffin didn't. He suggested going to the bookstore to see if he could buy another. They discovered it was $1.60. However,  this was post recess meal and all the boys, Muffin included, on emptying out their wallets discovered they didn't have $1.60 to pool together.

So Muffin decided he would break into his savings and buy one for himself. When the boy came to school with a replacement for Muffin, Muffin declined. He said he had his own money and he'd buy it for himself, otherwise his friend would be short of one for himself. Another of their friends was clamouring for it and Muffin suggested he give it to the other friend.

The story amused me but also made my day. Muffin is truly growing up and he's growing up great.

With this figured out, who really needs to learn how to spell neighbourhood?

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The Tooth Fairy

Muffin is growing up fast. He's shot up so quickly in the last few months that he's become gangly and clumsy. He's also started losing his milk teeth.

The first tooth he lost was at the gym. He left it on the bench but he couldn't find it after.

Tonight, he dropped his second tooth. We have been telling him, the last few days, to not swallow his tooth so that we could stick it under his pillow like the Jordan and Evan did.

Unfortunately, it was not to be. The tooth found the most inopportune time to fall out; as Muffin was rinsing his mouth after brushing his teeth. So it swirled in the sink and went down the drain pipe before anyone could react.

Evan tried. He tried to cover the hole in the sink. But the tooth slipped right through his fingers.

Muffin howled. It wasn't one tooth he was mourning. It was two. And he cried so pitifully, his usually combative brother came running to get us.

No amount of carrying and consoling soothed his distress.

Right till Evan offered him one of his own milk teeth (that he knows I keep in a container), to lay under his pillow so that the tooth-fairy would come.

Even with that, it took him another 10 to 15 minutes of sobbing, gulping and hiccoughing before he picked a tooth, laid it in the box and slipped it under his pillow. And then he cried himself to sleep.

But at least there was recourse.

Evan, the brother who fights so bitterly with him sometimes, rose to the occasion, put aside his own grumpiness and showed kindness and compassion. He did ask me to return him his tooth once we were done with it. To which, I gladly acceded. After all, the tooth was his.

So not only did we leave a note and 2 $1 coins for Muffin, we told him in the note that his big brother helped to make it happen and that he had a wonderful big brother. So we were leaving an extra $1 that he was to give to his big brother for helping him feel better. 

Sometimes, we don't give Evan enough credit. He's the oft-misunderstood, bullied, overshadowed middle brother. But he always, always rises to the occasion when it matters the most.

Like tonight, where he saved the day and was the tooth fairy through and through.

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Meta humour

Muffin has developed a weird sense of humour. He loves telling stories. But his stories send him into gales of laughter and infuriate the listener because they cycle. But the fact that he came up with it and sees the humour in it warrants some record of it.

Story Number 1:

Once there were three children. One night, two of them went out and left the tanned one (him!) at home. He played basketball with his mommy and they played for so long that he vomitted! He was a bit upset after that so he decided to lie down and tell his mommy a story. And this was his story...Once there were three children. One night, two of them went out and left the tanned one at home...

How long the story lasts depends very much on how long he can hold a straight face and how hapless his poor victim is and how long it takes his victim to realise that it's a version of Groundhog Day.

Story Number 2:
There were 3 children in a boat. Their names were Wee-Pete, U-Pete and No-Pete. U-Pete and No-Pete fell off the boat. Who was left?

When you answer Wee-Pete (Repeat), he runs through the whole spiel again, in gales of laughter.

I don't know where he learnt it from but as long as I don't have to be the listening end of it, which I unfortunately am, it's funny.

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The last time the oven bell dinged.

- This is actually a post from 5 years, 11 months and 1 day ago-
This is how old Muffin is today and it's part of the reason why I have my baby craving. But just re-looking this post also made me feel exhausted just thinking about it so I'll settle for being nostalgic rather that do anything about it.

So anyway, here's my account of what happened exactly 5 years and 11 months ago. 

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For everyone who was checking in to see if Muffin finally decided to show up, the wait ended yesterday. At 39 weeks 6 days at 1426 hrs.

So, how did we finally evict him? Well, he actually evicted himself. Perhaps because he knew the weekend was coming up. Perhaps he finally got clued in to the fact that his watery home was getting a bit too snug for him. Whatever it is, he chose yesterday to make an appearance.

And we only realised it by chance.

Early Friday morning, I woke up to pee. Naturally, since Muffin was exerting a great amount of pressure on my bladder. When I climbed back into bed, I suddenly realised that the usually active Muffin was not moving at all. 30 minutes of prodding and shaking my belly didn't seem to do anything to rouse him, causing me to imagine his umbilical cord strangling him and other horrors that I'd heard about. Massively panicking, I shook Packrat awake so that he could join me in the panicking.

He being a guy, jumped into action, ordered me out of bed to change and get to the hospital. It was the only way to know for sure. By then, I'd already felt some twitches from Muffin but I'd awakened a sleeping dragon in Packrat who insisted he wasn't going to rest easy till we put on the trace and ascertained Muffin's well-being.

Muffin, being Muffin was fine. Thank God! But incidentally, the trace picked up the fact that I was having regular contractions every 10 minutes. Although the midwife and doctor (whom I felt extremely bad for, having been rudely awaken at 3 am to consult on my case) told us we could go home, Packrat asked the midwife to check if I were dilated. This was a bit of an issue with us because without dilation, Muffin was not going to be able to get out of me naturally. And up to that point, that had be not even a micro-milli-bit of dilation. Lo and behold, there was some dilation! Finally.

To us, that was a good thing and it was met with great relief as well as trepidation. It did mean that while the wait would finally be over, there really would be another child in the house to add to the frenzy of our household.

Despite being then counselled to stay on at the hospital, we decided to go home. For various reasons. One, we'd left suddenly in the middle of the night and our children would probably be distraught to wake up to find us NOT in our beds. Two, I'd heard from other mums that the worst place to labour was the hospital as it tended to either halt or retard labour.

In the ensuing hours, for the first time, the contractions got stronger and more intense rather than disappearing as they had tended to do in the past weeks. And because I was home, I basically had to distract myself from the mounting discomfort.

By the time Packrat came back to get me, it was painful enough for me to stop what I was doing. Thankfully, they only lasted about a minute or so and that was the only reason I got through them, knowing that they would only last a minute. Packrat needed lunch and half jokingly suggested we eat at the food court we stopped at. I suspect my 'evil' look is even more intense when I am in pain and that idea was not pursued seriously.

The staff in the labour ward were expecting me apparently, because when I showed up, they were like "Yes, you're Ondine. You're the one who requested to go home and you're the one who wants to be able to walk around". True, I had requested to be able to 'walk' my labour off and since the hospital only had one room with the wireless CTG machine, I had asked them to hold the room for me. And I guess they couldn't believe that I had opted to go home even when I was told NOT TO.

My hospital, unlike some others in Singapore is still a little bit conservative in its approach to delivery so there are no water tubs and birth stools. And I guess to them, I was somewhat of a maverick because I had requested to walk and more incredulous stares followed when I told them I didn't want an epidural and rejected all offers of gas. All I used was my sock of rice that we constantly asked the nurses to nuke in the microwave.

With my sock of rice, I walked, swayed and banged table tops my way through the contractions that were getting more intense as I dilated at warp speed. From the point of entry into hospital where I was dilated at 4 cm, it went to 6 cm in half an hour. By that point, I just wanted to lie down and rattle the rails of the bed as the contractions sent spasmodic pain down my back into my bum. My very cool Ob-gyn waltzed in and congratulated me for finally going into labour. He asked if I want him to break my water bag and I told him to give it a little bit more time since we weren't not in a hurry and Muffin seemed to be nonchalant about the fact that my every bit of my body was finally all working in cahoots to expel him from his watery hotel.

After he left, I decided for the last time to get up and try and walk around, somewhat still trying to justify to the nurses why I wanted the wireless CTG monitors on me. But when I did, I felt that I had actually sat on a huge water balloon that went "SQUISH" under me. Yes, the water bag that I'd told the doctor not to burst, burst quite dramatically on its own accord. Right onto my Mashi-Maru bedroom sleepers.

I'd read somewhere that bursting the waterbag was a "committment to labour" because it really would be the point of no return and it truly was. I shrieked in pain when the next contraction came. The water bag must have cushioned much of the intensity of it and since the bag had burst, I no longer had that buffer. At the same time, that elusive urge to 'bear down' was upon me and Packrat wasn't sure if I was conscious of the fact that I kept telling him that I needed to poop. Apparently, the sensations are identical.

The midwife chose that moment to plunge her fingers into me causing me to want to kick her in the face. Thankfully, the result also heralded the fact that it would be last time anyone unceremoniously did that to me. 10 cm and we were good to go. There was only one problem. The time that had lapsed between my Ob-gyn leaving and my severe need to take the biggest dump of my life was probably just enough time for him to have arrived at his clinic and start seeing patients again.

So despite the midwife telling me to push when I felt like it, I was screeching for the doctor and going mad with the idea that I had to bear with this pain because the doctor wasn't back yet. And it didn't occur to me to cross my legs either. When he finally returned, I was partially distracted by the fact that I was watching my doctor change out of his work shoes into the most unglamourous of yellow boots.

But that was where the real fun began.

He, in the calmest of voices, told me to push when I was ready. By that point, I was alternating between sobbing from the intensity of the discomfort and swearing like a banshee. Until I heard him very firmly tell me I was wasting my breath and should channel it toward pushing the baby out. He also warned me that I was going to feel some stinging because he remembered that not only was I anti-pain relief, I was anti-episiotomy and the only way around it was to administer a perineal massage to muscle that was already going to be stretched beyond belief.

My thoughts at that point I think bordered on "I don't care what is going on, I just want this extremely weird, burning sensation to STOP!" I'd clarify at this point that while it was painful in a way that being sliced is painful, there was the very real sensation of something very big and possibly alien like bursting forth from my very core. And despite that fact that I've run for so much of my life and pride myself in being physiologically aware of my body and its muscles, I really had no idea what I was doing or what muscles I needed to engage.

But since millions of women have go through it before me and have survived, I figured I would too. 3 pushes and his head was out. And these 3 pushes came almost one on top of another. Because of that, despite the fact that I wanted to be free from an episiotomy, the doctor had no choice but to do it. He said that Muffin was coming too fast for him to stretch the muscles out in time. Anyway, another half push and the shoulders were released and then another half push for the rest of him to come tumbling out.

The minute they put my steaming hot Muffin on me, I declared very loudly that I wasn't ever going to do this again. I think that broke the tension in the room quite a bit.

So that's how Muffin was born. Between my water bag bursting and him tumbling right out of me was the longest ten minutes of my life but in the grand scale of things, it was a mighty short labour and delivery.

Incidentally, Muffin's name is Dylan Josiah Tan.

And here are some souvenir shots from the birth that are totally inane.

My trusty heat sock.
    

 

The victim of my water bag bursting unexpectedly! My Mashi-Maru slippers. If you look very carefully, the right one, has a stain above the ear that Packrat, try as he may, could not get rid off.
















Presenting Baby Dylan, 30 minutes after delivery after his first feed.

















His very proud Big Sister who fawns over him like a doll. His Big brother however, is a bit worried about his position being usurped and is clinging on to Mommy for dear life.
















For all those totally freaked out by this post and are contemplating adoption and a hysterectomy, it really isn't as bad as I've made it out to be. It can't be all that bad since I really didn't have any drugs to do it. Maybe taking out the wisdom teeth are worse, since you can't do that without anaesthetic. So there, a means of comparison!

We followed up this blow by blow account with a spiritual perspective of the birth. So for those who want to read on, here it is.

This post is part of the ‘Birth Stories’ Blog Train hosted by Owls Well


If you would like to travel to the previous stops on this Blog Train and read more interesting birth stories, you can start with this one here with Prayerfull Mum, Danessa.

Danessa is a Stay-at-Home Mum to one precious princess. Read on to find out this mother's experience of giving birth that took place 5 years ago. Sometimes we got to be careful what we pray for ...

To read other exciting birth stories please click on the picture below.

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Opti-Muffin

Muffin is into Transformers now, the same way he was into Star Wars last year. He spends his days playing with his toys, looking at pictures of them and trying to draw them. Obviously, his favourite Transformers character is Optimus Prime and he obsesses about how to draw the Autobot sign, how to turn himself into Optimus Prime and everything that was ever written about him.

So, today, he flips to a Transformers Manga comic that Evan borrowed from the library and asked for arms like Optimus.

Short of buying the costume (which will inevitably end up being too hot for him), he wasn't in possession of Optimus arms. He had used the long plastic container that contained CNY  love letters but insisted we cut out the base of it out, but it wasn't ideal because we wanted to put stuff in it, it would have sharp bits if we cut it and it didn't have smoke stacks.

Smoke stacks. Information that take up precious memory brain cells in my mind.

Anyway, he wanted arms. So we made arms with a box.

Things needed:
1. One Bata shoe box (Need not be Bata)
2. Scissors
3. Lots of thick tape
4. Cardboard strips to make the bracket to hold the smoke stacks (I can't say smoke stacks without rolling my eyes).
5. Marker pen
6. Toy golf sticks, recorders, anything long and can pass off as a smoke stack.
7.  Symbol of Autobot to copy. If only we could have traced them then Muffin wouldn't accuse Mommy of drawing uneven Autobots on his arms.

Instructions for those who have Opti-Muffin type kids,

1. Cut the box and tape them into triangles and make sure the arms can go through.

2. Create little brackets for the smoke stacks so that they won't fall through or move about. 

3. Draw signs

4. Use remaining shoe box to make breast plates because Optimus has breast plates. If you have time, you can paint them Optimus colours; red and blue. 

So half an hour and a lot of scotch tape later, we have Opti-Muffin who can transform at will. 

That ought to keep him busy for the morning plus he's got stuff to bring to school for Show and Tell. The other Optimus arm he tells me, is for his friend who is also Optimus Prime. 

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Holiday Things to Do: Santa School (A Review)

When the twins went to The Giving Treehouse for their holiday camp, Muffin complained. He heard tales about lava lamps, kites and trampoline parks (though he was there for that bit) and wanted to know why he didn't have camp to go to. He's like I was as a child, I wanted to do everything my brothers did even though I wasn't old enough or ahem, I was a girl.

So when the opportunity for him to go to camp, he jumped at it. And better yet, it was a Christmas- Santa themed camp, by BlueTree Education, which thrilled him to bits. There were Christmas related songs, stories, make believe and most importantly, craft that kept him busy and happy.

The most fun bits for him were always the craft bits of the day. Over the five days, he made snow men, reindeer antlers, a reindeer that they then had to hunt for when they went reindeer hunting (for the sleigh not for food!) and eventually an impressive and beautiful snow globe.

He took a while to get used to the place. I suspect it had to do with being in a younger class where most kids had their parents there and I did the 'dump and go.' But as with all things Muffin, he was okay after a while.

For Muffin, a lot of processing happens internally so it's usually over a period of time that we see the full impact of anything. It was only on Day 3 of what he aptly termed as Santa School that we realised how much he'd internalised when he started giving me 'right-left- straight' instructions in the car (they learnt directions in order to guide the reindeers pulling Santa's sleigh) and ransacked our bookshelves for snowman books. We seem to be woefully short on that front. 

What tickled me most of all was when one of the teachers sent me a picture of Muffin being dressed up as a Christmas tree. When I asked him about it, he burst into gales of laughter and told me in sputters how he had to stand still while other children decorated him. He also added that he had a star grow out of his head but it wasn't there anymore because he bumped himself and the star dropped off, like the reindeer's antler, he added.

But in all seriousness, Santa School was really well thought out and the teachers were articulate, fun and played with the kids as if their own. They exuded confidence in dealing with the little ones and I knew that, despite Muffin's initial protests, he would be okay there. And when I came in to pick him up later the first day, he was chummy with "Snowman Sock Aunty" (Aunty Diana) and liked "Snowman Hairband Aunty" (Aunty Mabel).
And the craft! I've talked about the craft. But I can't stop talking about them because they were all oh-so-pretty. This year's Christmas tree is adorned with, not just the traditional baubles, but all the craft bits that JED have come home with and Santa School Christmas-ed up our house really nicely.



So was it a hit? I think it pretty much was, especially when he got to meet Santa and Santa gave him sweets. He did whisper to me that it wasn't the real Santa but that was okay by him. Did he want to go to Santa School again? Nope. Because Santa only comes once a year, at Christmas.

That's fair enough.

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Santa School was run by BlueTree Eduction, a newly established enrichment centre, offering pre-primary and primary programmes. It's run by ex MOE teachers who want to create fun learning workshops during the holidays for preschoolers and primary school goers.

I had a look at the regular programmes that they run for the school going crowd as well and to be honest, I really wanted to do it too or teach it; a whole CSI episode to teach investigative writing? Complete with a dead Barbie doll, I wouldn't mind doing that even as an adult.  Anyway, for more of their programmes, keep an eye out on their Facebook page.

BlueTree Education is offering $50 off their regular programmes (for the first payment only) for all Diaperbag readers. Just let them know you came by through the Diaperbag.


Address: 271 Bukit Timah Road, Balmoral Plaza #02-15 Singapore 259708
Nearest MRT: Newton Bus Services
Balmoral Plaza Bus Stop): 48, 66, 67, 170R, 171, 700, 700A, 960
Contact number: +65 9106 4702
Website: http://bluetreeeducation.com

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Home Made Play # 3: Ice creatm stick catapults

One of Muffin's favourite games that he keeps going back to is Angry Birds Jenga where there are birds, catapults and blocks. He has an even greater love for it now because he has a few Star Wars Angry Birds pieces. It is one game that he can be left playing all by himself for hours.

The only problem is that he would willingly forgo playground time just to continue building  and destroying structures. And because we generally like that the kids are out of the house, out in the open, we don't like it when he opts for the indoor choice.

Then I found something that could be made with ice cream sticks, rubber bands and a bottle cap. Very imaginatively, it was called the Ice Cream Stick Catapult. But it was a great discovery because it pretty much took as long to make as it took the glue to dry under the bottle cap. And instead of launching birds, Muffin could bring down his catapult and launch beans. We used black beans and green beans. Black beans being a better choice. (We'll explain that later)

We didn't use a bottle cap because Muffin was too impatient and it was almost time for him to get to school. That meant improvising with a plastic spoon.

Did it hold his attention as long as the Angry Birds set did? We don't really know because his school bus came before he tired of it. He didn't let me bring it home though. He insisted that it had to be brought to school for show and tell. And it hasn't come back since. I suspect it's taken up residence in his classroom and I'm pretty sure it's being used to launch balled up paper, erasers and goodness knows what else the little ones can get their hands on. 

It's just occurred to me, while writing the last line that should Evan bring said catapult to school, it would likely be a bigger hit.  But it would almost certainly guarantee me an irate phone call from his teacher about how I had put a weapon into my son's hands and his entire class had taken cue from him and were launching all sorts of things at each other and teachers. 7 year olds are much more creative in their destruction and play. It would have pretty much guaranteed a full scale class war.

Thankfully, Evan hasn't seen it yet though I have plans to make one for each one of them. Then we can have a challenge to see who is able to launch the beans the furthest and we could be single-handedly responsible for an entire patch of bean sprouts growing in the grass patches.

Incidentally, we don't encourage the use of green beans especially if said child using it is young or lacks coordination. Muffin ended up looking over the catapult as he launched the beans. It meant beans flying straight into his nose and giving me a bit of a panic attack. Thankfully, he had a runny nose and we managed to blow out the beans together with his snot.

But even that, he found very amusing and declared the black beans the ones to use because 'my nose holes are not so big as the black beans.'

Spot on observation, my young baked good.

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JEDi kids.

Muffin, like his brother has obsessions. Once hooked, everything has got to be about it. His obsession, is Star Wars. It's been like this for the last 6 months, ever since he saw the Jedi Academy at Anaheim last year. It's funny because his peers have no idea what Star Wars is. Ben 10, yes. Despicable Me, yes. Cars, yes. Star Wars? What is that?

On his birthday, we brought muffins in for the Muffin with Star Wars toppers and only the teachers knew who the characters were. Once again, his classmates had the "WHAT IS THIS?" look on their faces. But it hasn't stopped him. In fact, it's taken over his life. Pretty much.

Much of what he has picked up in the first half of this year has come in the form of Star Wars related stuff. Books that he started on were Star Wars readers and he learnt slightly out of context words like "duck" (the verb not the noun) and learning how to spell Star Wars from packaging. He's even coloured some of Packrat's Star Wars books. Thankfully, Packrat was more amused than annoyed though we did give him a talking to about colouring the figures in Papa's book. 

 

For me, it's been a crash course in Star Wars vernacular. My brothers and even Packrat tried without fail to get me interested. No go. But because of Muffin and to some extent, Evan (he loves them but he's a lot more independent in seeking out information now), I have had to learn more than I would have voluntarily done so. Of course, I still make mistakes like refer to the TIE fighter as a Ty-fighter much to Packrat's annoyance. 

His obsession drives the twins crazy because they get suckered into their good versus bad battles where Muffin constantly claims he can 'grow back'; therefore good never being able to defeat bad. In fact, the sense of righteous justice that the twins have cause them to be annoyed with Muffin who wants them to play with him but constantly announces that come what may, he cannot be defeated. Evan, on this occasion, has a whole lot more patience than Jordan, to talk geek with Muffin about Star Wars. Jordan likes the books and occasionally the play acting, but doesn't like the movies and the extended obsession that the boys are more capable of.

And when they abandon him, he creates his own world and fights his own battles. He has these etchings of light sabre battles and nothing else. He spends ages creating them, with 5 crayons (Green, Red, Blue, Black and Purple). From them, he is able to narrate a tale of who is fighting whom and who won. Sometimes he exaggerates; General Grevious having MANY light sabres.

  

Evan's Clone Wars book. Not Muffin's.

So it doesn't come as a surprise that he dresses up as his characters. When he didn't have the proper outfits, he would improvise. His sister's dress up scarves as a robe, a recorder, connectable tubes and pipes or sticks for his light sabre and recently a toy pot as Darth Vader's breathing apparatus. When he watches the cartoons or the movies, it isn't a couch potato experience for him. He is leaping and fighting with his light sabres, mimicking the battle scenes, which are unsurprisingly his favourite parts.

As indulgent parents with a little bit of a fan boy/ girl thing going, we have hunted for Star Wars opportunities for them; from a May the Fourth (Force) event with life sized Star Wars characters to hunting down encyclopaedia sets for Evan and art classes for Muffin.

Muffin still laps it up. Every thing Star Wars. When I found out that an art studio (heART Studio) was running Star War art classes, I think I was first in line to book a spot for him. By nature, he's almost as reticent as Evan about trying new things and he clung onto me for dear life as we walked into the studio. All the way there, he was begging me to 'stay for a long time' rather than 'for a little while' as I had promised. But when he saw the images that he could choose to paint, he declared he wanted to paint both Obi-Wan Kenobi and Darth Vader. When I told him, he could only pick one, he said he had to come back again to do the other one. That, from a kid who was hiding behind me five minutes earlier and not wanting me to leave. 

And the earnest conversations he had with me after that about how Obi-Wan Kenobi's light sabre had two blues because there were crystals inside that made it special. It went over my head but it made me smile because he's so geek about it.

I'm not sure how long this love affair will go on for but for now, it's all encompassing. Evan realised recently that if we added an 'I' to the end of the acronym-ed name (JED), it would make Jedi. This immediately started a conversation with both boys campaigning for a younger sibling to form the perfect (in their eyes, not mine) acronym. Not likely, boys. Not even in the galaxy far far away.

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Brothers are awesome

I grew up always wanting a sister. I dreamed that she would be someone I could tell secrets to, play with and she could be my best friend. Instead, I had two brothers who made fun of me, mercilessly. I eventually did get a sister-in-law who pretty much became the surrogate sister I wanted, though much older. And by then, I had also decided that my brothers were pretty awesome too; that was when they stopped making fun of me and I wasn't out looking for someone to play Barbie with anymore.

My children pretty much follow the same gender configuration as my brothers and I though instead of being the youngest, Jordan is the eldest and the two boys follow after her. And because of their twin nature, Jordan and Evan are naturally close. Jordan and Muffin are close because Muffin is Jordan's 'baby' and she mothers him. Evan shoves her away when she tries to mother him. And while there is natural competition between the two boys, increasingly, Evan and Muffin are closer because they share more and more of the same language and I suspect work on pretty much the same wave length.

On top of that, Muffin hero worships Evan although at this point, Evan finds it an annoyance. Muffin wants what he has, does what he does and goes where he goes. Evan finds it as endearing as he would a buzzing fly. I try to convince Evan that Muffin only does that because he wants to be 'just like Kor Kor'. Evan is skeptical.

Anyway, this afternoon, Evan got through to Muffin in a way no one else could. And thank goodness for that. The little one decided to play with my bedroom's sliding doors. He took it one step further and latched the door from the inside. Because it was a latch, there was no corresponding key to unlock it. That meant Muffin was locked in my room with no way of getting out.

Naturally, he got panicky and started to cry. We tried to calm him down, asking him to play and read while we figured something out. I contemplated, as my parents did when I locked myself in the bathroom as a kid, calling the fire department. But Evan took over the crisis, went to the door and told Muffin on the other side what to do. Where he panicked even more and cried when we tried to tell him what to do, Evan succeeded in getting him to calm down and do as he was told.

It helped that Evan was specific and clear and Muffin understood him. A minute later, the latch was flipped and Muffin slid the door open with a large sheepish grin and teary, red eyes.

Of course he forgot to thank his brother and of course he made light of the situation. "I wasn't troubled, Mommy!" he claimed when we asked him about it later on.

Yes, right. You owe your brother big time for that one. Okay, to his credit, he was very nice to his brother after and sided with him when Jordan inflated Evan's balloon till it exploded loudly.

Earlier in the day when all he cared about was turning into a Ninja Turtle.

So perhaps if Evan's plan of being a scientist doesn't pan out, he can work as a crisis negotiator (though I wouldn't wish him the emotional stress of a job like that). But I think today only happened because he didn't know that I was contemplating calling the fire department. Had he known that, he would have just left his brother wailing and waited; because to him, the fire department breaking the door down would have been infinitely more cool than teaching his brother how to unlatch the door. Never mind the cost it would incur to Mommy and Papa!

But I think they are realising, as I slowly figured out while I was growing up, brothers are great to have around.

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BFFs

The idea of friends only occurred to the twins when they were in K2, where they started to become independent of one another. Their friends and interests diverged round about that time and slowly, they had their own little group of friends. Even then, their primary playmates were still each other.

This isn't really the case for Muffin. The twins are Muffin's playmates the way siblings are but he isn't always in sync with them. First of all, there's an age gap. Secondly, they didn't share a womb.

So, sometimes he feels slighted and left out. Perhaps, because of that, he is more forthcoming about being friends with other little kids.

He talks about his little friends in class more than the twins did at his age and he is more keen to play with them than they were.

His favourite friend right now is Jack.

Jack's mom and I are friends from college days so we are have often hung out with the kids around us. But it has been only the younger two that have got on like a bush on fire. They talk about one another and pester us, the moms, to organise play dates for them. They even arrange their own dates between themselves.

They play with each other, they egg each other on and they laugh at each other's lame jokes. They even try and help each get out of sticky situations even if it would have meant one falling into the pond.

They even make up games with one another.

Inadvertently, they fight and the ultimate warning of "you're not my friend anymore!" gets issued; a much more grammatically accurate version of what it was during our time in school with the abbreviated but very powerful "Don't friend you ready!"

But even with that, they are still asking for play dates and Muffin constantly talks about the things he and Jack did. Jack's first words the morning after the play date was to ask when Muffin was going over again. Obviously, there were no hard feelings.

Watching little people is always amusing. Watching them negotiate the social world and figuring out what works and what doesn't is even more amusing. Muffin declares Jack his 'best friend' right now.

For the moms, we are pleased because it gives us more reason to hang out and since they can keep each other occupied, even better. 

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No Nap Made Worthwhile

Every morning, I have a simple wish; to be able to go back to bed once I'm done with the morning dropoffs. Unfortunately, there is Muffin who is awake by the time I get home. On occasion, he rings me before I get home to ask if we can go out. 

This morning was no different, except that with a cough and cold that has been ongoing for 10 days, more than ever, I had a heavy head and wanted to have a lie down even if I couldn't go back to sleep. But when your four year old calls to ask if we can go to Botanic Gardens and he tells you that he's already had breakfast and his bath, everything else becomes moot. I take a deep breath, pick him up instead of park the car and swing back out. 

But I didn't regret it. Neither did I drive into a pole but that's beside the point. 

Apart from the fact that Muffin is always full of glee and joy in the gardens, we managed to see something that I don't think was an everyday occurrence. 

Muffin's favourite activity at the gardens is to feed the fish at the Swan Lake. He's used to the gazillions of fish and terrapins that await his stale bits of bread. But this morning, there was something else in the water that made both of us stop short. It looked Loch Ness like. Upon closer inspection, it was a huge monitor lizard with its head above water periscoping around. That in itself was fascinating enough as it swam near the edge of the pond and occasionally dived under. Muffin was convinced it was a crocodile or an alligator.

Truth be told, I HATE LIZARDS. Big ones, small ones, all sorts. If I had been alone, I would have run screaming in the opposite direction. As it is, when this was circulating yesterday, I had told Packrat that if there was a monitor lizard hanging from our neighbour's or our gate, he could come find me at the Starbucks across the road after the AVA had come and picked it up and promised that it was gone and good.  But for Muffin's benefit, we had stuck around. 

The last dive the lizard made was a long one. Muffin kept scanning the water to locate it. When it did surface, it had something clamped in its jaws.That leads me to another thing I shudder and would not go out of my way to look at. DEAD HELPLESS ANIMALS. And the monitor lizard had caught itself a giant catfish and was trying to make land with it so that it could probably feast on it. 

Its valiant struggles attracted a crowd and Muffin while fascinated was also a little freaked out, dragged me to follow the lizard while it tried to find somewhere it could make land. It made it half way round the circumference of the lake before the cleaner decided it had eaten enough of the catfish and removed it explaining that if he didn't do that, the fish would rot and the water would be grossly murky and stink. 

Muffin has not stopped talking about the 'vomitor' lizard and the poor catfish. He told every stranger we met all the way back to the car. He told his teachers in school. He told the helper on his school bus. I saw him gesture and show her how big it was. And he is convinced it is evil. Even though I explained to him that the monitor lizard was just hungry and needed to eat, he wasn't very convinced that the monitor lizard was 'good'. The 4 yo's world is very black and white. 

So, I am glad that we went to the park. I am glad he got to see the monitor lizard in action close up. So close up, we took a video for his siblings, who would be most jealous, to watch. I am glad he got splashed by the lizard's tail (though he was suitably miffed because the water got into his eye) and I am glad I got a chance to explain to Muffin that what he was seeing was natural and pretty much the same as what he watches on National Geographic.

Do I still wish I could have taken a nap? Definitely. It's 1 pm now and that nap feels more necessary now. But do I regret not taking that nap? Nope. I  think even if we stalked the lake every day for the rest of the year, we may not get the same opportunity as we did this morning.

 

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