The Girl in Red Hood

“The basket is ready.” Momma called out to her. 

“Go bring it to Grandma, she’ll be so happy I’m sure.

“It’s cold outside now, so don’t catch a cold. 

Wear a hoodie and warm clothes, please do as you’re told.”

So she put on her cloak; her favourite red one. 

And as she picked up the basket, out fell some crumbs. 

She peered into the basket, there were scones with jam,

Warm buttery bread, with cheese and ham. 

Strawberry shortcakes and fruit tartlets,

And a big round cake covered with chocolate. 

All yummy things that she knew she would share 

With Grandma later, once she got there. 

So she pulled on her hood and out she tread

Into the woods, the little girl in red. 

She skipped along streams, and crossed a field,

Where wild flowers grew and she picked a few. 

She gathered a bunch of pink, white, and blues, 

And a tuft of dandelion, which into the wind she blew. 

She watched as they flew dancing in the air.

Laughingly, she tucked a flower in her hair. 

She did not notice a wolf stalking her,

Stealthily, quietly, with its shaggy brown fur. 

‘This girl looks tasty. But she’ll be too quick for me. 

I’ll need to wait for a good opportunity.’

He thought for a moment and then called out to her,

“Hello Little One, I see you’re new here!

I haven’t seen you around here before,

Are you on your way to complete some chores?”

“Hello Mr Wolf, I’m visiting my grandma. 

She lives alone in the cottage not far.

Right up ahead, just beyond the hills,

The cottage with the patch of daffodils.”

“Oh Little One, I just came from there 

And it seems that you are unaware.

The path up ahead has been blocked with boulders,

You must make a detour and walk a little further.”

So the girl in red hood, off she went. 

She will take longer to reach Grandma’s,  which was the wolf’s plan.  

The cunning wolf ran straight to Grandma’s hut. 

He wanted to catch her and eat her up. 

But when he reached there, Grandma wasn’t in the house. 

He searched high and low, but she couldn’t be found. 

So he wore her pyjamas and lay in her bed,

Pretending he was actually Grandma instead. 

As soon as he lay down, the girl had arrived,

And she looked at ‘Grandma’ with her face of surprise. 

“Grandma!” She exclaimed, “What big eyes you have!”

“All the better to see you with, my dear, don’t be daft.”

“What big ears you have, so long and so pointy!”

“All the better to hear you with!” The wolf said shakily. 

“And look at your mouth, how big they are!”

“All the better to eat with! And now you, I will devour!” 

And the wolf lunged at her. Jumped out of the bed. 

But he could go no further, someone hit him on his head!

And there stood Grandma with her frying pan. 

She had seen the wolf earlier and devised a plan.

Hiding in the closet in the back of her room,

Biding for the right moment to make her move. 

The minute the wolf pounced onto the girl,

Grandma rushed out, her fury unfurled. 

“How dare you try to eat my granddaughter!

I’ll make you pay for wanting to eat her!”

She bonked the wolf hard, right on his head

With her trusty frying pan, she was not afraid. 

The wolf howled in pain, and shrieked a scream.

He fled away fast, with his tail tucked between. 

And that’s the end we see of him. 

The End. 

*********

Grandma and little girl had a grand day ahead. 

They laid the food out and had a picnic in bed. 

Of coffee art & pretty things.

 

Sometimes I think I enjoy the coffee art more than the coffee itself. 

I mean, who does not like pretty things. I know I definitely do. And that’s probably why I paint. 

I paint, not because there is any demand, or that I enjoy the process of painting. On the contrary, the process is tedious, backbreaking, body stiffening and time consuming. Nothing enjoyable about it at all. 

What I enjoy instead, is the end product that I make; the fruit of all that back breaking labour - a small piece of something pretty; something cute. (At least in my own eyes, it is.) Armed only with amateurish skills, I can only manage simple things; usually a card, a small painting or a simple floral piece. 

Something to brighten up a corner of an office, a room in a house, and (hopefully) a smile on someone’s face. 

And so, I’ve come to the conclusion that what I am really after, is joy. The joy of giving, of seeing that smile on the faces of the people I paint for.

I don’t need big guffaws or deep laughters. Quiet heartfelt smiles, big wide grins and smiles that crinkle at the eyes make my heart full. 

Also, if people laugh loudly at my paintings then it probably means that I’m not doing it right. 

I’d love to say that I’m starting small, and that one day, I’d be able to paint big pieces for people to buy and hang on their walls. But that’s what I said when I wrote more regularly last time. That I would one day, publish a book with all my writings. 

And till today, I have not progressed anywhere further than I had 10 years ago. 

So. I’m changing tack. Instead, I will start small and do small. Because after all, small things do matter. 

Like the decoration on a cake. Mixed peas (I hate) in fried rice (I love). Parsley (I dislike even more than mixed peas) in any dish. Comfy socks on a long hike. The warmth of sliding under the blanket in an air conditioned room. 

Also, because I am a lover of simple (also read as boliao to some,) things. Like Popiah skins in the Peking duck dish and the peanuts in kway chap. The sight of the moon in the night sky. A gentle breeze on my face and the patter of rain on the window pane. A small flower in a sea of weeds. A smile on someone’s face. And yes, pretty art on the coffee foam. 

There are people who say dream big, do big. But I shall do simple. Do consistent. And be joyful and thankful in the small things that happen around me. 

May the year ahead bring us all simple joys in our everyday lives, and happy smiles on our faces. 

Happy 2023. 

2019. To School and Back, again.

2019 descended so stealthily upon me that I never felt it coming. It was as if a surprise to wake up that Tuesday morning, to find that 2018 had quietly melted away overnight and in its place,  stood a brand new 2019, with everything in the calendar on repeat mode. 

(Please, excuse my blasé-ness.)

A new year signifies new hopes and dreams. New opportunities to fulfil new aspirations, (or the ones that we had procrastinated to, the year before). It also signified the start of a new cycle in life, and at work and school.

To mark the first day of school for the kiddos, we had applied for leave so that we could pick them up after school for a special ‘Back to School’ lunch.

Standing within the crowds of parents, you could easily tell those with P1-going children, the ones poised at the most strategic spots (that looked on to the walkway), with the anxious smiles and craned necks, and eyes peering as far as they could see; apart from the orang lama ones seated on the benches looking as cool as cucumbers (or hot as potatoes judging from the searing heat this afternoon).

Outside the school gates, a long line of cars stood waiting to pick their little ones up from school. Several buses honked in irritation as they took the outer lane, having to bypass the line of obstruction, to get to their next stop. 

Despite the seemingly slight chaos, the scene was an orderly one with the parents clustering around the school entrance, some politely chattering, while others were quietly murmuring about while waiting. 

The school bell rang and shortly after, the first children made their appearance. As they passed by me, I caught sight of the faces on these parents, a mixture relief and pride for their child having survived the first day at school.

Snatches of parent-child conversations drifted by :

“What did you have for recess?”

“How was your class teacher?”

“What did you do in school today?”

“Wow, that sounds wonderful!”

“Do you like your new school?”

I looked on as parent after child filed out from the school gates, smiles abound, and saw in revelation, beyond the loving smiles and tender concern, the faces of these parents on their first day of school. 

To parents and especially to those with P1 children, Welcome to the club.

May 2019 be a fulfilling and enriching year ahead, for us and our young ones. 

Lunch with a stranger

The noodles were piping hot, oily and spicy. 

My famished tummy growled in response.

As I sat at the chilli splattered, unwiped table - the only one available in the crowded eatery, I wasted no time in tucking into my lunch. 

There was a swell in the crowd as it was lunch peak hour and I was content to have, for a brief moment, my own tiny space within the mass of people.

Then she appeared with her tray of noodles.

Her searching eyes met mine in an unspoken question.

Was the seat taken?

A nod and a tiny smile later, she walked over, placed her tray on the table and sat down beside me.

Two strangers. Two bowls of noodles. Her cup of tea and my cup of coffee.

Strangers. Yet in that slice of time, we were having our lunch together, sharing a small space on the little square table.

We finished our lunch in amiable silence and with that last sip of her tea, she stood up and left.

Should we ever meet again, we would surely not recognise each other. It would be as if we never met and our paths never touched. Fleeting incidences like these do not often leave an imprint of the faceless strangers that we meet.

How many of such paths have we encountered?

How many of such people have met and forgotten?

The fellow commuter who had sat beside you on the bus.

That old lady whom you had given up your seat to on the train.

The kind stranger who had held the lift doors open while you dashed in.

We were all strangers, whose paths had no reason to cross. But in that brief moment in time, we were connected by an event, a place, a smile.

The passer-bys in our life, who had shared a small slice of our life.

Goodbye Pepper

It was a hot day today. 

The kind of day with clear blue skies and a hot beating sun.

The vivid green of the grasses and trees whizzed past us as we drove past the park. 

Jogging tracks lined the park stretching from one end to the other, reaching us again when we drove around to the other side of the park.

You laid on me, snuggled up in the towel with your head in the crook of my arm. A while later, I shifted you higher to look out the window, but you were probably not registering to any of the views. Your cateract unseeing eyes had caused you to lose your sight a few years back and now, you couldn’t see, much less enjoy the view. 

I suppose you had also forgotten who I was. Dementia had evidently came to you during your senior years.

You tried to keep your head up but it was just too much for you to take and after awhile, your head lolled back onto my shoulder. As I cradled you gently, I could hear your shallow breathing and feel the too-fast beating of your heart through your protruding rib cage. 

The sun was shining down on your face, but you might well be oblivious to it too.  

We were on our way to the vet. And despite all the illnesses wrecking your body, maybe you were sensing something with your muted doggy senses. 

For weeks you had lain there without a sound. Not moving, not eating, only accepting little of whatever we syringe-fed you. We knew your time was nearing and that you were just waiting. Waiting for freedom from all the pain and discomfort and illnesses.

If you were not in any pain, we would have been prepared to wait with you till the end. You would have spent your remaining days in the safe and familiar surroundings of home. We would have let you go whenever you thought you were ready. 

But last night when you yowled piteously throughout the night, we decided that we had to bring you in to the vet. In all the years that we’ve had you, even in your sickly days previously, you had never acted like this. 

The vet saw you and gave us your prognosis. 

We were given final moments with you and then, it was fast and painless and peaceful. 

Seventeen years ago, you came into our lives when you were but a few weeks old. A small white fluffy ball of fur that was perfectly content to just lay quietly on our laps feeling protected and safe from crowds.

Today, along with the car ride and the ray of sunshine that we experienced together, were our last ones with you. 

We drove back home later in the afternoon under the same beating sun. The skies were as clear and blue as it was in the morning; the park with all its greenery and tracks laid out as before.

But my arms were now bare. 

And our hearts bereft and heavy.

There was so much of the day left but there was none left for you. 

You are free now, Pepper. 

Run with the wind, jump high into the skies, see the new world.

Cross that rainbow bridge.

And go find your beloved Ah Pek.

Our Artsy Farty Weekend

Artsy-Fartsy in our context simply meant a trip to the Art Science Museum. We were lucky to get tickets to the Treasures of the Natural World and Future World so off we went to be tourists for a day.  

The kids had been to Future World previously but not the Treasures of the Natural World, so it was a new experience of sorts.  

Thankfully there was no crowd and after a quick scan of the tickets, we were a-cruising in.

The Treasures of the Natural World reminded me of the show ‘Night at The Museum’. And it shouldn’t be surprising since the movie’s setting was also at a similar museum. There were many interesting exhibits on display including a cursed amethyst (which kinda freaked the boy out), a pair of very long (2m I think, each) water buffalo’s horns, (really reflective) silver beetles, a mummified cat and fossils of several prehistoric creatures.  As you can see, I’m not very culturally or historically inclined and we basically went around quietly reading the description off the artifacts and ‘waah’ed at the ones we could identify. 

Here are a few of what we saw.

 

Boy at the sabre-tooth cat exhibit. I jokingly told him that the cat brushes its teeth cleaner than him because the teeth were so stainless! (See, no plaque!) Lols..

"Look! A Dodo!"

    

Siblings enjoying the 3D show on Dodos.

Somewhere in the middle of the museum, there was an activity section where kids (and adults alike,) could try their hand at folding their own 3D tigers and orang-utans. Afterwards you could choose to hang them onto the rainforest backdrop or bring them home. These two, they did both. They folded two each and stacked them onto the existing stacks (cos no more space to hang), and brought home another two as souvenirs.

 Proudly showing off their creation.

We zipped out and in from the Natural World Museum to Future World. Once we were in Future World, (again, thankful there were no queues), we saw a short queue forming outside the first exhibit. There, being the typical Singaporean with the kiasu mindset, we stood in line without knowing what we were in for. 

It was actually an awesome light display with dizzying effects! Literally. I found it so beautiful that I kept turning round and round the four walls trying to take in all the lights and displays, and follow the birds zooming around, until at one point in time,  I had a case of motion sickness and got really nauseated. But that was probably only me. The others, as you can see, were enjoying the spectacular experience thoroughly. 

Somewhere further down, there was this really beautiful pretty slide, adorned with colourful flowers and fruits! I couldn’t resist having a go at it and basically threw my bag at hubs so that I could join the kiddos on it.

  

Spot L slip sliding down? She’s basically not the very adventurous kind but this was too pretty for her too miss! 

  

Me taking photo of Daddy taking photo of the kids. 

   

It’s raining symbols!  

And once you touch the symbols, it will turn into the respective animation that the symbols mean. Only here can you make mountains and fire with your hands. Very clever.

 

And here is my favourite piece.

Very soothing and magical  to watch. I can stare transfixed at the changing lights, imagining myself in the dark sky surrounded by stars.  Unfortunately, one cannot stay inside for long as there are other people queuing in to go in. :(

Dark choc lipstick on the boy! 

Ice-cream after the visit while chilaxing outside of the Art Science Museum.

Bye beautiful blooms!

Bye beautiful view!

The Girl Who Loved Weeds.

A patch of grass always interests her. 

She’d slow down her steps, shorten her stride, her eyes searching, hoping to catch  the ‘elusive’ clusters of touch-me-nots. 

“Wait mom.” She’d say. 

If timing permits, and we are not rushing to anywhere in particular, we’d stop and spend a minute or so, searching together. Eyes skimming through the sea of green, for small pink flowers and palm-like grasses.

She would be delighted if we spotted some. She'd touch them gently with her fingertips and watch them close shyly up, or sweep her feet dramatically over them in wide arcs. It really depended on her mood. 

And we’d be squatting there side by side. Mother and Daughter sharing a moment, admiring the slow closing of the leaves and the wonders of nature. 

Other times, we would be looking out for the dandelion-looking weeds. The ones with the small balls of puffy white heads. She would pick those gently and with care, because using brute strength would only shake the fluffy bits off. Then with a deep breadth, she would huff away at the little feathery seeds and watch them float away in the wind. 

My girl is a tender heart and appreciates the little things in life. The small, simple gestures that big Brother is often apt to overlook and miss out on. 

She enjoys the occasional little notes I slip into her pencil case, and she’s more thankful and appreciative of the little gifts I randomly buy for her. Every single stuffed toy that she was given or bought, sits in one big happy crowd at the head of her bed. She even has ready names for the mynahs that she spots off the road (usually Meena and Mona), and greets every spotted-neck dove she sees in our estate as ‘Tweet-Tweet’. (We had previously rescued and nurtured a baby dove for a week then before releasing it back to the wild. And since then, every such dove would be addressed and greeted by her.)

Like all girls (and her mom), she gravitates towards aesthetically pleasing sights and appreciates the beauty of a sunset-hued sky or the magnificence of picturesque clouds. Wild flowers that grow around are often picked off and presented to me in an array of a colourful bouquet. 

For all the sweet and thoughtful nature that she is, I am aware that she will not forever remain this tender-hearted, innocent baby girl of mine. For now, a big part of her influence comes from me. But as the years pass and as she blossoms in her own time, her circle of friends will expand. And so will her sources of influence. Even then, I hope that the eyes of her heart and soul continue to seek and find joy in the little things in life. 

Because for wonderfully big things to happen, we must first start with the little ones.