Make Way for Toddler Mikhail!

As much as I’d like to live in denial, I can’t.
Our son is no longer a baby.

Babies are swaddled.
There’s no way we can swaddle Mikhail, with his long limbs and superhuman strength.

Babies can be cradled in our arms.
Mikhail will humor his parents and let us do that for 3.5 seconds before he wriggles free.

Babies nurse and eat mush.
Mikhail stopped nursing at 1 year of age and stopped eating mush at around the same time.
With his ten teeth, the boy is eating everything WE eat, and sometimes, things that we don’t. The only mushy food he’ll tolerate is ice-cream and mashed potatoes. And occasionally, porridge.


Yummy bubur... with ginger and ikan masin...

Babies are easy to control.
(Well, they just lie there, what…)
Mikhail is a boisterous, curious, cheeky little monkey.
He loves to walk ahead of us in public places, without even checking to see whether we’re following him!
The only time he’d turn around is if a stranger accosts him. Then he’ll immediately whirl around and point to us, keeping his eyes on the stranger all the time.

Babies cry.
Mikhail hardly ever does. Actually, he wasn't much of a crying baby...
He cries OUT in frustration sometimes, like when we are too dense to understand that he needs food and needs it NOW.
But he doesn’t cry. No whining either (alhamdulillah… hope this lasts!).
He talks a lot more now though.
A few understandable words like ‘Daddy’ and ‘Shoe’ and ‘Car’ etc.
But mostly he speaks in Mikhail Language that sounds a lot like Gordoth from Planet Zargon…


Chomping on pizza in tears

So yeah… Mikhail is growing up.
He’s a bona fide toddler now.


He's discovered the taboo of nose-picking

He runs.
Oh my goodness, I still remember the days when we were eager to see him take his first step… and now he’s RUNNING??

He climbs.
The billiard table he got for his birthday?
Is now Mikhail’s own personal stage.


Messing up the shoes to climb on the shoe rack... which then collapsed

He reads.
I’m SO delighted that he takes after his Mommy!
First thing in the morning, after milk, he will sprawl on the bed (or floor) and read his book, muttering Mikhail Language and pointing at the pictures


I used to read like this when I was a little girl... and my room was just as messy

He’s obsessed over cars.
His first word was ‘car’. He has wayyyyy too many toy cars.
On the road, he points out cars that are similar to Mommy and Daddy’s car and bellows ‘CAR!!! CAR!!!’ (Both of us driving Malaysian-made cars make this a frequent occurrence).


Car car car!

He loves dining.
Gerai ker, fast food chain ker, restaurant ker, hotel banquet ker…
Mikhail loves his food and everything else that comes with it.
He even knows how to summon a waiter (stares at them and raises his hand with a slight wave...)
He insist on paying the bill too...
(Daddy hands him the money and he passes it to the cashier... and waits for change)

*sigh*
This may not make sense but…
I miss my baby.
I miss cradling that warm little bundle of sweet smells.
I miss watching him lying on the bed, kicking his fat feet and waving his chubby hands around to touch my face.
I miss nursing him and feeding him mush.

But I LOVE my little toddler Mikhail.
I love seeing him grow into his own person.
I love watching his independence and his confidence grow each day.
I love doing ‘big boy’ things with him like reading together, playing in the playground, sharing a slice of chicken chop and a tub of ice-cream.
I love seeing him having a ‘conversation’ with his Daddy.
I love it all.

Takperlah Mikhail.
I hope you realize that even though you’ve grown, and even though you will be a strapping young man with a family of your own and a high-flying career…

In my eyes, you’ll always be my baby.

Be forewarned.



In his sleep, we can cradle him to our hearts content

Boys Will Be Boys...

Something I just realised about raising a son.

It brings back floods of memories of growing up with my two brothers.

Mikhail’s not even 2 yet, but I’m remembering those days when I had to help chase after my boisterous, cheeky, frustratingly mischievous brothers, Ayman and Irfan.

I remember when Ayman and Irfan were at pre-school age.
Mealtimes were hell. The maid (poor, frazzled little thing) had to chase after not one, but TWO boisterous boys. They took real pleasure in whizzing past her legs and going in separate directions. Their giggles were annoying… and the messes they left… sigh… worse than a herd of cows.

Mikhail usually eats at the dining table with us. But on those days when he eats earlier, he sometimes refuses to sit still. Why sit there when no one else is?


1.5 seconds after this picture was taken, he had run off to the playground

I’ve always vowed never to be one of those mommies who chase after a running child with a plate in one hand and a napkin in the other. But these days, I seem to indulge the tyke. (Only at home, though. Such behavior is still not tolerated in restaurants. )

Nowadays Mikhail loves playing car. He’d run around and screech to a halt in front of me, where I’ll be ready with a spoonful of food to feed into his waiting mouth. His mouth would’ve been open a few seconds before he reaches me so I’d better have the food ready or a loud bellow will come out of it.
Sometimes, he’d play airport. And Mommy will be the plane, zooming in for a tunnel landing. This is where the Mommy will be doing the running around because this ‘airport’ is one that moves around a lot…

I also remember the occassional weekends we went to the arcade.
Oh my God. My brothers went berserk.
With the generous amount of coins they received from our dad, they went on a rampage. Shooting games, racing games, dancing games, ball games, all games.
They did ‘em all.

I remember the din of the arcade. And the annoying mechanical songs that played for the merry-go-round. And the nauseatingly sweet smell of cotton candy and popcorn. I would be sitting in the corner, reading my book while the boys had the time of their lives with the arcade games. The ringing in my ears after we left the arcade is still, you know, ringing in my ears…

Last Sunday, we took Mikhail to the arcade in Mid-Valley Megamall. OH my, he had a blast. He’s still a bit scared of the bumpy rides with loud noises but he went on the patrol-car ride twice. Then the Daddy played all the arcade games with him. Speed racing, banging on alligators, shooting hoops, popping ping-pong balls into a green frogs mouth (games are so much more interesting these days)…


Let's get a superbike, Dad.
Mommy tak kasi la, Mikhail.
Mommy ni boring la.
Not so loud, Mikhail.


They had a lot of fun while Mommy documented everything via video and photos. And no, we did not feed him cotton-candy or popcorn…

Then there was the Superhero Era.
When my parents bought Ayman and Irfan matching superhero pyjamas... Superman and Spiderman. That was the time when big sister Diha felt like running away from home.

They had those pyjamas on 24-7.
No cupboard was left unclimbed. No curtains were spared from attempts of ‘Spidey-clambering’. No tablecloth was left from being a cape.
No sister was left un-annoyed.

And now Wan has bought my son a Spiderman suit and a Superman suit.
Sigh…
Mikhail has yet to be exposed to WHAT Spiderman and Superman are, so it’s still fine. He just thinks they’re colorful, cool clothes to wear.
Wait till he’s old enough to read Marvel comics…


I don't know what this get-up is all about but people scream with delight seeing me in it and I'm cool with that...

I’m sure that as Mikhail grows older, there’ll be more boy-things that will remind me of my brothers when they were young.

And believe it or not, I’m looking forward to it.


Uncle Fan, Mikhail and Uncle Man... Superman, Spiderman & Batman?

From Potato Leek Stew to Cheeseburgers...

For those of you who know me personally, or who have been following my blog (wujud ka? hahaha), you might remember that I was very ...uhm... fussy about cooking for my baby. Hot meals made from scratch, with fresh ingredients and minimum seasonings... And no one was to cook it but me....

Say bye2 to THAT Mommy.

These days, since Mikhail is much older and his tummy is much more mature, he eats everything. Tolak batu dan kayu. Unless there's a way to cook batu and kayu.

Mikhail LOVES to eat.
He might have just had lunch 5 minutes ago, but if he sees someone munching on something, ANYTHING, he'd bug them for a bite. The only thing he's not too keen on is dessert. Hand him a piece of chocolate and he'll take it... but be prepared to find it stuffed between the cushions or hidden under the couch.

His deftness with the fork and spoon also helps him in having fun at meals. He likes to pretend that he's an adult, and not a baby. Thus, at restaurants, he'll sit on piled-up-chairs intead of the baby-chair, if he can help it.

Wan's working hours are by shifts, so occassionally, he gets to have breakfast with his son before he goes off to work. This would inevitably lead them to the gerai across the road. It serves fantastic roti canai, nasi lemak, kuih-muih, mee goreng and the like. But the two boys go there for the nasi lemak. One bungkus each.

The Daddy would scoop out the sambal from Mikhail's packet but sometimes, a twinge of it is still left. When that happens, Mikhail will just stick out his tongue and go "Air air air air air air airrrr" until he gets to soothe his throat with his drink, usually soya bean. Yes, from a can.


Roti Canai cicah kari... "Air air air air!

A favourite of Mikhail's is nasi ayam. Oooh he LOVES chicken and he LOVES rice so the combination of both, added with warm chicken soup just gets him screaming with delight.

Such a Malaysian, isn't he? Nasi lemak lah, nasi ayam lah.... Betul-betul budak Melayu.

But...

Now this is where lots of mommies out there will admonish me.
Unless they're already admonishing me for feeding my son 'stall food'...

Mikhail loves McDonald's.

I don't know how or when or why... but he now recognizes the Golden Arches and points to it whenever we drive past it.


Digging into the Happy Meal box

His Happy Meal varies from the one with the chicken (did I mention how much he loves chicken?), the one with the nuggets, or the one with the cheeseburger. The chicken and nuggets he can finish, but the cheeseburger he needs some help with. Especially the middle part, with the pickle. It's good that Mommy loves pickles. Hehehe...


Don't worry, Mom. I'll share with you... the pickle

So, there you go.
From waking up at dawn to whip up a gourmet meal for my son, I'm now feeding him stall-food and fast-food.
So sue me.

But don't get me wrong.
Most of the time, he eats at home. And his GrandMa is a fantastic cook who makes him healthy meals. And the fast-food are treats; not a common occurence, okay. And sometimes, Mommy still goes to the kitchen to work her magic (chewah...).


Mommy's Pasta - Mikhail loves anything that can be slurped


Monkey Mikhail - Bananas are good, sweetie. Got pottasium.

Here's to children, and their hearty appetites!

Cheers!


McD drive-in, Mommy? Please? Can you really say "NO" to this face? Heheheheee

Note: You may notice that some of these pictures have him with his curls and the others are of him with a clean-cut. I'll be posting something on The Haircut soon.

The Power of Powder

I think almost every child will have a Powder Moment.

The moment where they discover an opened bottle of baby powder within their reach.
Or even the moment where there discover HOW to open a bottle of baby powder within their reach.
Once that moment comes, there's no stopping... The Power of Powder...

It's either used as creating an indoor snowstorm... or transforming the child from cherubic baby to a main character in a Chinese Opera... or recreating a scene from CSI...

Mikhail chose all of the above...

One fine evening, Mikhail and I were hanging-out in his room (which is, by the way, the Master Bedroom in our condo... Mommy and Daddy sleeps in the secondary room... the one WITHOUT the pool view, the air-conditioning nor the attached bathroom..Guess there's no doubt as to who's Master of THIS household...)

I was lounging on his bed (Queen size, don't imagine big ol'me curled up in a crib) while the littlewan busied himself with his toys, chattering away and banging his cars together. It was a lovely way to spend the evening.
Absorbed in my book, I suddenly realized that something was wrong.

There was silence.

And anyone with children will know, that when there's silence, there's trouble.

I turned to my right and found myself staring at a floor, covered with a thin film of powder... adorned with tiny baby footsteps...

I raised my head to follow those footsteps and there he stood.

The perpetrator of the crime!

Mikhail hadn’t noticed his Mommy looking at him.
He was engrossed with the bottle of baby powder in his hands.
His face was smeared with powder.
His lips were pursed in concentration and his hands had a firm grip on the base of the bottle.
As I watched, he turned the bottle upside-down and watched the powder cover the floor with another layer of ‘snow’.

“Oh…. My…. God…” Mommy says (ala Janice from F.R.I.E.N.D.S.)
Mikhail snaps out of his powder-induced trance and whipped his head to look at me.
I swear that little boy froze in his tracks.

He didn’t move a single muscle… He didn’t even blink!
It was as if he thought that if he didn’t move, I wouldn’t be able to see him.
Invisibility via inertia, perhaps?



“Miiiikhaaill, what have you done?” I say, in my best Mommy-is-Mad tone of voice.

He looks down to the floor and gives a shriek.
“Eeeeee!!!” he says, pointing at the mess he has made.

“I KNOW!” says Mommy, amazed at the fact that the littlewan is now zealously pointing to every thing that’s covered by powder. As if he too has just made this discovery, instead of being the one who DID it.

“Yeeeeshhh, ball, yeeessh” says Mikhail, walking across the room and pointing at his ball (also a victim of the powderstorm).

Then, amazingly, he stares straight at me, points at the powder covered floor and goes “Haaa… haaaa…” in that sing-song tone (Haaa... Haaa… tak tauu…) as if I was the one who created the mess!!!

“WHAT??” I sputtered. “Excuuuuse me, Mikhail, YOU did this. You don’t ‘haaa… haaa…’ when YOU are the one who did this!”

He blinks at me for a second, then proceeds to repeat, “Haaa... Haaaah!”

By this time, the Mommy was trying very hard not to laugh.

“No, Mikhail. Don’t blame Mommy. Give me the bottle and clean up this mess. Wipe! Wipe!”

The littlewan surprisingly hands me the bottle of powder.
He then reaches for the nearest piece of cloth (his red t-shirt) and starts wiping at the mess. He wipes for a bit, then realises the futility of the act and scrunges his face up with a frustrated yell.

He then concludes that it's the fault of the t-shirt and tosses it aside, picking up a small towel instead. He continues wiping, keen to be rid of the evidence of his dastardly act. Hehehe...



Thus, ends Mikhail’s First Powder Moment.

But even now, when he comes across a toy with a smidgeon of powder on it, he’ll point to it, look at Mommy and go ‘Haaa… haaaa…’

Sigh.
Luckily, I got the entire scene on video (I love this function on mobile phones!).
So no, Daddy, you can't blame ME for the half-empty bottle of powder.
Heheheh!