Mini me



Not me, but YL.

He's got tricks up his sleeves, this one, just like his Baba.  He has a twinkle in his eyes, ready to spring some surprises when you least expects it.  I'm just waiting for the day when he can talk well enough to play prank calls.  Watch out, Yiyi!

He keeps Popo and I in stiches at his antics - making faces, imitating our lines, sharing his exuberance, and generally having some good ole-fashioned pointless, childish fun.  Che Che (Sophie) finds it totally irritating, especially when it takes attention away from her. 

Aaaa...the good ole-fashioned sibling rivalry has arrived in its full splendour. 

Anyways, back to similarities with his Baba.



Funny faces: Check

 I want to go there, NOW!

Impatience: check.

When his favourite cartoon, Cars, is on, he grabs his toy cars/trains/planes and hunkers down on the sofa, getting ready for some entertainment.  He laughs and makes commentaries about the scenes.  He stays focused, and for 60 minutes, he forgets his mission in life, which is to annoy Che Che, Mamma and Popo. 

Just like his Baba when Top Gear comes on TV. 

 "Nooo, this is how you do it, Mamma!" 

Oh yes, this line is also very familiar...

Fashion stress

When I told my beautician back in Singapore that I was moving to Paris, a dreamy look immediately washed over her face, and the predictable gush of words came out, "Paris!! Oh how lucky!" with a gasp.

She did not notice the meek, embarrassed smile I gave her, but from her vacuous eyes, I guess she was already reveling in images of the Eiffel Tower in the background lit up like a giant Christmas tree at night, good-looking men in beret and women in Chanel and Louis Vuitton strolling along the Seine, admiring the grand facade of classical European edifices, baguettes floating around, and the sounds of ooolala!...punctuating conversations.

Stereotypes, but they are true.  You DO see men in beret walking about clutching their fresh baguettes, and you DO hear oolala! in its various incarnations all the time around you.  And what is MOST true is the devastatingly stylish women walking about on every street corner of Paris.  And the worst thing about that is that they seem to do it so effortlessly, as if they just woke up and threw on whatever they could find in their dirty laundry bag, and voila!  It is inimitable; it must be in the Parisian genes or something they put in the water supply. 

Once YL and I saw a woman in a serious, classy outfit wearing what seems to be a large pink shower cap having lunch in a reputable brasserie next to the Sorbonne (University of Paris).  She looked stylish.  If she had worn that back home, she would have been carted off to Tanjung Rambutan (THE sanitarium in Malaysia).   

So there is some amount of stress in terms of dressing.  Singaporeans and Malaysians are notorious for our laid-back, kampung style of dressing.  My time spent in Canada and YL's time in Australia did not help much in the subject either, as both countries are equally casual in their dressing (Birkenstock with socks! University sweaters! Hawaiian shorts!).  London attempted to educate us, but they were quite forgiving in that aspect.  Not here.  One can't help but feel self-conscious when surrounded by style personified.   

Even YL was inspired? pressured? to pull together a decent ensemble during his week-long visit.  He, of the stained-20-year-old-tees-and-holey-shorts-and-patched-up-Teva-sandals fame.  It is a mini miracle.  Maybe he will consider accessorizing with my shower cap? 

Two is fun

That's a big, fat lie. 

It is excruciatingly tiring. 

However, it should be Popo who should complain here.  She is the one who has to put up with the daily relentless whinging from Sophie about Ju bullying, hitting, snatching, screaming, and generally making a nuinsance of himself around her (oh, trust me, that boy gives lots of fodder for a post).  Ju also keeps Popo busy with wiping off smashed bananas from the sofa, cleaning strawberry stains on the cushions, cajoling him into and then later, out of the bath, and dreaming up of new recipes for his meals. 

Fortunately, Popo being Popo, it only takes 23 seconds for those two to charm her into forgetting her aches and anger.  They don't even have to try very hard. 

On the rare good days, Sophie indulges her brother in silly games and it is such a pleasure to watch them.  That's when two is fun. :)

 Singing a silly ditty together

Did we wreck enough havoc yet? 

It's peace and quiet for the rest of us while they enjoy their favourite snack of hard-boiled eggs

How can we make her go away?

We've got her wrapped around our tiny little fingers... 

(Almost) A New Beginning

There goes my bachelorette pad

Bienvenue a Paris!

After 2 months of living it up on my own, the kids and Popo have finally joined me in my new world. YL also dropped-in for a week or so, to help to settle the clan, and boy, was there was an endless stream of that. Even after the dust had settled and YL left this morning, I still could not take a decent picture of the apartment to show you, because, well, it is still a work-in-progress with boxes and junk scattered around.

The only decent thing in the apartment to show at the moment: Classic French windows overlooking the internal courtyard of the building

We spent the first few days zipping around Paris and its suburbs in a rented car, stocking up on food, household necessities, appliances and the odd piece of furniture.

The Doctor was already jittery about driving on the wrong side of the road for the first time in his life. And he has to do it in a city known for its fearless guerilla-drivers and convoluted street designs and confounding rules. Then he discovered that the car that his wife had rented for him is a manual stick shift. Five minutes after getting into the Vehicle of Doom, the SatNav announced "Take the third exit at the next roundabout". We looked up from shifting papers and fiddling with buttons and levers in the car. After the one brief moment it took for realisation to set in, two quivering voices yelled back, "But it's NOT ANY old roundabout!!" and we prepared for our imminent demise.

The Roundabout of Life-and-Death (also known to tourists as the Arc de Triomph)

But once again, the Doctor demonstrated his heroic abilities to overcome any situation (except socialising - for that, he still cowers behind his wife) by successfully entering and emerging from the ultimate test of manlihood. He topped that by getting around Paris without a scratch or a bump on the car or his family. We shall conveniently forget those stalled engine incidents. They never happened.

That is not our car. But we feel for you, brother...

After that hectic week, we have now somewhat settled into a routine. Popo is getting used to the weather (i.e. weather inside the apartment), Sophie made some friends at school, and Ju had less knocks and bumps in the last few days which means he got used to the placement of the furniture in the apartment.

So, until Baba joins us in August, here's to a (almost) new beginning!

p/s Here's to another new beginning - a big warm wet WELCOME to cousin Kristabelle!