Archives for category: Imperfect Kids

“Mommy? Why do bad people go to hell?”

I was struggling to make sense of my Chinese homework when she popped this big one.

I spun around, half-shocked, half-amused. Raeven looked at me, poised over her Legos, apparently not just playing with her toys anymore, but also contemplating religious concepts and perhaps even viable solutions for the fuel crisis and who the 5th cylon is.

“What?!” I asked, trying to keep the shriek in my voice under control.

“Why do bad people go to hell?” Rae repeated.

“Who told you that?” I questioned the question.


Now that’s even more bizarre. My atheist husband talking about sin and hell? Where’s the hidden camera?

“What? When?!” The shriek bubbled precariously.

“When we were watching All Dogs Go To Heaven? I asked him what heaven was. And then he said bad people go to hell,” she resumed assembling her blocks.

So much for screening before buying. How the heck did I not see that coming?

Stalling her with questions about the movie, I’d racked my brains frantically for a good five minutes before coming up with this answer: Maybe Daddy was just talking about the movie?

“No, he wasn’t,” was her curt reply, eyeing me suspiciously, the way cops eye you when you’re going at 15mph in a 25mph zone.

In the end, I fell back on science. I talked about the tea roses that had rotted and fallen off the branches outside our house, how they’d turned brown and become part of the ground. I recalled, not very fondly, a book we’d gotten from the library (which I’d ALSO not screened very well) about a pet dog passing on and getting buried in the backyard. And I’d saved the best for the last – dinosaurs, one of Rae’s three great loves thanks to her best friend Hayden’s influence, next to computers and Barbies.

“What happens after dinosaurs die?” I asked her. “Even T-Rexes (which are considered “bad” in her book because they eat other dinosaurs). Do they go to hell?”

“Nahhh,” she’d answered as though I was an idiot. “They become dinosaur bones!”

Of course, I had to attach a closing argument to all of this.

“You’ll find different people believe in different things. What’s important is all of you believe in the Golden Rule,” I’d summarised triumphantly, feeling a little proud of my quick thinking while reminding myself to clock my hubby one on the head the moment we reached Orlando.

It is a good thing Lokes left this morning. He would’ve had hell to pay.

Note to self: Do not leave smart children unattended with idiotic husband.

What the hell was I thinking, agreeing to do this? That’s the problem with not thinking. Do not ever not think. Husbands do it all the time and we give them hell for it and now look at where it’s landed me. Not thinking is just baaaad.

We’re going to Disneyworld in a few days. It’ll take me all day to reach Orlando from Seattle with two kiddos, a flight with zero in-flight entertainment, a one-hour transit in Minneapolis, a laptop that claims a four-hour batt life only if you run, like, Notepad; one PSP to share between the three of us (thankfully the batt life trumps the laptop, now that’s a REAL gaming machine) and I just spent $50 on all sorts of “creative” implements that won’t get us kicked off the plane (hopefully).

Thank God we live in the age of Internet. I am totally a Cheat Sheet kind of gal and after Googling “flying with kids”, I am now the authority. I am ready. I am SO thinking:


Thinking that perhaps they should make families with children-only flights so I won’t have to battle all those dirty looks when Skyler decides to start a front-seat kicking contest.

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Skyler the thinker

What is she thinking about?

Probably candy.

Or ice cream.

Or both.

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Am not sure who’s happier that she’s feeling well enough for Nutella, but I know it’s pretty close.

I guess she’s feeling much better!

About ten minutes ago, Raeven came crashing into my dreams (interrupting an otherwise very nice fantasy about a beach and a mysterious stranger), telling me she smelled shit.

I’d fallen asleep at 7.30pm after putting the kids to bed, just worn out from a day of dealing with diarrhea all day.

True enough, Skyler had slept through what smelled like a few hours of decomposing crap, which had made its way all over her sheets, on her jammies and her – wait for it – hair.

So at 12.30 midnight, groggy and disorientated and feeling like crap myself, I bathed my (vehemently protesting) three-year old, changed the sheets and took to the whole bed with my nose sniffing out every last whiff because the room still stank like some Bukit Bintang back alley.

I have new respect for all those foreign maids we have back home. Treat them well, my friends. They are brave, precious people.

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I found out from my mom yesterday that my folks have been silently keeping vigil at my blog, hoping that I’d put up some pics of the girls (never occurred to them to call me?…). Sort of like praying for rain (or sunshine, if you’re where I am). Sigh, they crack me up.

I keep most of their photos in my Flickr (which is private). They’d have have to sign up for an account to see them or a Facebook account (some of the photos are there as well for my friends to look at). Well, let’s just say my dad is not going to go through all that trouble.

So, here you go, Mee and Dee (some of these were taken today).


The girls, April 2008

Playing with...woodchips

Daddy's girl

Beautiful Raeven

A Dancing Sky

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We had a close encounter with a Mac Book Pro today.

Three-year old Skyler’s response: Mommy, it’s an apple! (she saw the logo)

Five-year old Raeven’s response: It’s not like other computers, Mommy!

MS is clearly catering to the wrong demographic.