I realised that when I was on the train, having my solo trip to the art museum. There were these 2 toddlers with everything pink plonk down beside me.
This tiny girl with her hair held up by a pink furry rubber band had huge eyes that made her so adorable looking.
She stared at me with her big eyes and I thought that I was going to make her cry anytime because I had that metal piece hanging out from my mouth (how Dennis!). But she didn't which made me sigh with relief.
She studied me with much interest on everything that I was wearing.
I felt her eyes follow my green headband accompanied by my sunglasses, to my black and green eyeliner, to the red vintage school bag I placed on my thighs, to my bright orange tube dress with a blue top and my white pointed shoes and then back to my black nails.
I'm not exactly sure why, but this little girl made me feel so small. I started fidgeting with my earpiece, wanting Yellowcard to drown all that nervousness, but obviously, it did no help.
The entire trip was so tense. I was so afraid that any movement I made was going to make her cry (no idea why). Then, the time for her to step off finally came. I felt my body loosen up and damn, that felt so good.
She jumped off the seat, clutching on to her elder sister's hands, she stucked out her tongue at me. I stared back, surprised, thinking, 'What did I do?'
Then, she smiled. That impish grin.
Man, I was blown over. I smiled back at that girl as she skipped out of the carriage her hair bouncing.
I never could explain the anxiety I always experience whenever I've got really close contact with kids.
The only toddler I feel at peace with, would be that Hanis boy. That adorable rascal. (Speaking of which, I just had a dream about him yesterday. I was cradling him in my arms as he does that ultimate thing that always annoys me; scratching people with his nails)
Oooooh! Transformers' on right now! Transformers, robots in disguise!
Gawd, there are so many things I want to write right now but everytime I want to write it down, that thought flies away and then I return back to square one and forget what to write about. :S
7 legged lamb
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I just got a funny feeling that parents measure their success of bringing up their child using their height.
Earlier, while we were preparing to go out for breakfast, I was testing out my shooting skills via spitting grape seeds into the dustbin, when my dad came forward and stood beside me.
He exclaimed, 'Waaaah! You same height as me now!'
Kaypo Ma-terr came into the scene.
'Ya meh? SAM! You stand straight!' she ordered because I always have a habit of slumping slightly. (Oh, and have I mentioned that I was a tad irritated that my seed-shooting session has been interrupted and I'm not liking that a bit?)
'WAH! Really leh! Same height as Daddy!' my Ma-terr beamed proudly. 'Me leh, me leh?' she scrambled over.
Ma-terr's always in denial. She never liked it when I tell her that I'm taller than her and she's a plain shorty. She'd pout and proudly retort that she's 169 when I dare say that she has shrunk to a 165 (old people shrink). Then, a verbal fight ensues as she tries to defend herself and I do the same.
'WAH! Taller than me also!'
I stare at disbelief as I watch her; her expressions marks disbelief.
It wasn't as if it was the first time she realises that vast height difference.
Somehow, our comparision of our heights never faze to amaze her. Beats me, no idea.
'I'm sure you can grow to a 174!' my dad looks at me, as I see tears in his eyes, as if height was the measure of success. You could almost hear those orchestra music playing in the background if this were to be a scene in a movie.
'Like real. I can NEEEEH grow to a 174. My growth spurt's over, dad.'
'Eeee-yuh. You better stop growing.'
My ma-terr has this theory that tall girls don't get married. ('Stop growing! Afterwards ah, you got no boyfriend!')
As usual, my parents got into a debate of heights (yet again).
My dad wants us to grow as tall as Yao Ming and my mum doesn't want us to grow THAT tall. ( her definition of tall: being taller than her)
Then my dad goes on to question why she isn't proud that her kids were growing all tall and fine. My mum, defended that she IS proud of us. And then she goes on to rattle on that we got our height genes from her side of family because her 'side of family are all veh tall..' whereas my dad's side 'is all the katek people'.
I left the kitchen, wondering why I even bother hearing my parents quarrel about something so trivial and stupid. Tsk. Talk about childish-ness, take my parents as a fine example.
Ah well.. I'll update another time on another silly topic YA.
