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Baby Butterfly

I wonder if I flap my arms this way

Would I be able to fly away?

Up above into the sky

Like a little pretty butterfly…

Brushing Chore

As I mentioned in an earlier blog, one of my favourite features of bath times is when I get to use the toothbrush…only not for brushing my teeth…

It feels so much more fun when I use it to pretend cooking ‘chicken’ in the bathroom, or when I’m biting it! Hee! Anything but using it to brush my teeth! I really dislike the feeling of the stick of brush poking and scrubbing the insides of my teeth. Quite ticklish too, I guess. :-p

Anyway, Papa has been trying all sorts of methods of getting me to brush my teeth. Some of his ‘brushing teeth’ customised songs that he sings to me to spur me to brush my teeth include..

(tune of O Clementine)

You MUST brush your teeth tonight

Brush it left and brush it right

Brush it up and brush it down

Spit the water on the ground!

and to the tune of Row Row Row your Boat:

Brush, brush, brush your teeth…brush it left and right

Gargle, gargle, gargle, gargle…spit it out of sight

Brush, brush, brush your teeth…brush it up and down

Gargle, gargle, gargle, gargle…spit it on the ground!

Sigh…makes me wonder why we should brush our teeth. Anyone out there have tips to make brushing teeth more exciting?

Baby Gaga

I must admit I am sometimes quite envious of Koko Collin who can now spew out some songs (although most of the time in the wrong key..) from his mouth.

While I still struggle to form audible words, I believe I am pretty close to mimicking Lady Gaga….partly because most of her songs consist of lyrics I am surprisingly quite familiar with.

For example, don’t you think her Bad Romance’s “Rah-rah-ah-ah-ah, roma roma-ma, gaga, ooh la la..” has the same lingo as my “ang goo goo gaga boo boo…” Hee!

All Good Things…

Propped up on Papa’s lap. Just the way I like it. Facing front. Facing the TV. Papa’s bulging tummy is a bonus too. Ahhhh. Not sure what or why Papa and Mama is watching this. Too much dialogue. No animation. No life. No jokes.

I could hear Mama was on my left. But there was more sound than just Mama. What was it? It sounded familiar, yet not recognisable. It couldn’t have been my big brother Collin. I could hear smell him a mile away. And those loud repeated thuds of two feet behind the sofa tells me he’s back at it again. jumping around like some madman.

So I turned to the left…and I saw it. Mama’s goodness. My source of food. Of joy. Of life. But it’s flowing into a bottle or equipment of some sort…why? Questions, questions, questions. So I reflected. It’s actually been quite some time since I was given the pleasure of the original stuff. Have I been a bad girl? Maybe. Hmmmm. Then it dawned on me. Could it be?…No…

Am I only going to get the fake bottle from now on? Sigh. Maybe it’s because my insistence on the real thing has been giving Auntie D a lot of problems. Probably even confusion. Looks like I’ve gotta learn to adapt and live with it.

It’s a sad goodbye, but I should have realised not everything will last forever…all good things will come to an end. Life goes on. Sigh…

I

Your name is pure

Just as Papa wrote and dedicated a song, Through Your Eyes, to Koko Collin when he was born, I was uberly excited when Papa also wrote one for me too!

Although, the guitar riffs and vocals were a bit off, I am really happy and grateful for Papa’s efforts. Thank you, Papa!

YOUR NAME IS PURE

We are so blessed, with a girl like you

To have you in our lives, it’s like a dream coming true

The sounds that you make, when you express yourself

The groans, grunts and cries, are like music of life

Caitlynn, your name is pure (2X)

A most lovely trait to carry with you

So pleasing and endearing when we call you too

Caitlynn, with your allure

We know for sure

Your name is pure

We are so thankful, to be able to see

Those pretty little eyes, twinkling ever so brightly

The movements you make, every stretch or flip

Is poetry in motion, even when you’re asleep

———-

Music & Lyrics: Papa, 2009

“What Are Little Boys Made Of?”

Found this delightful tradional rhyme from Wikipedia that never fails to make me smile (and laugh too!). Reminds me of Koko Collin too…hee!
“What are little boys made of?
What are little boys made of?
Frogs and snails
And puppy-dogs’ tails,
That’s what little boys are made of.
What are little girls made of?
What are little girls made of?
Sugar and spice
And all that’s nice,
That’s what little girls are made of.”

And that’s why I’m always an angel to Papa and Mama…hee!

Resourceful Rat

There are times when desperation calls.

When the want becomes the need.

When the thirst becomes dehydration.

When there’s no one to help.

All alone. All desperate.

That’s when resourcefulness takes over.

When I look for hope.

For a means. For an answer.

For a way.

To resolve desperation.

To meet the need.

To quench the drought.

So I push. And I climb. And I stretch.

And I stretch.

And I stretch.

For my goal…

O Medicine!

O Medicine!

O Medicine!

Where have you gone?

Your sweetness. Your flavor.

Your scarily accurate measure.

O Medicine!

Why do I have to wait…

To taste you again?

Do I need to be sick before you re-appear?

Or are you just playing hard to get?

O Medicine!

Can I fake a cough, or blow my nose?

Or does it have to be real?

The waiting game is unreasonable

It’s making things tough.

It’s making me unwell.

The pain. The suffering. The anxiousness.

O Medicine!

Why are you doing this to me?

Or could it be?

When I truly fall sick, you will appear once more?

To quench my desire. My thirst. My needs?

Could it be? Could it be? Could it be?

O Medicine!

Come back to me!

Craugh

There are times when a cry IS a cry.

There are times when a laugh IS a laugh.

And then there are those times when the moment calls for both a cry AND a laugh.

For these times where there is no word to describe, I shall call it a “craugh”.

These are the times that I am neither crying nor laughing.

When adults do not know what to do with me…

When I feel like testing the situation to see how people react…

When I feel like I need some loving or manja-ing…

When I feel like I need another push for that Oscar nomination…

I will craugh…

An Image of Independence

What lies beyond the horizon?

Beyond independence. Beyond boundaries. Beyond races.

Sometimes it’s so hard to see…

We stretch. we tiptoe. we climb.

And after all our garguantan efforts

Beyond our strength. Beyond our abilities. beyond our time.

We see an image in sight…

In the horizon. Embedded. Infused.

That makes us more confused.

We see the image of ourselves

A reflection of who we are; what we’ve done; what we’ve become

Is it an independent reflection?

Is it a related refraction?

Happy Independence Day, Malaysia!
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