May the force be with you

It started innocently enough. Earlier this year, my cousin gave us the complete digitally remastered Star Wars in a 6-dvd set. What we didn't expect was that it would spark off a Star Wars frenzy in Andre, to the extent that it dethroned even his beloved Lord of the Rings. Almost all of his daily tv quota thus far has been dedicated to reliving Star Wars episodes 1-6 in turn.

Every other day, I'll hear emanating from the screen, the original, ultimate climatic scene, which Andre loves to ham up:

Luke Skywalker: You killed my father.

Darth Vader: No (heavy breathing). I am your father.

Luke Skywalker: Nooooooooooooooooooooooooo!!!!!!!

I was not a Star Wars fan growing up but I can see why it's every boy's fantasy. Flying, fighting machines, sleek robots, oozy, slimy creatures and of course, the fabulously cool light sabres.

I don't allow the purchase of any toy weapons in our home so Andre decided to fashion his own light sabre, using an empty shuttlecock tube and a part from a kids' basketball game set. Quite ingenious, I thought!

Last week, I found him recreating scenes from the Star Wars movies using Kenneth's stack of flip chart paper and coloured markers.

This is Attack of the Clones:

A New Hope:

Some close ups of key characters:









Alamak, somebody needs to work on his spelling.







Star Wars has its unexpected side benefits. Andre is always lamenting over his diminutive stature but recently, he told me, "Now I feel better about being small."

"Why is that?"

"Yoda is small but he's the wisest and most powerful."

The truth you speak, my young Padawan.

"Size matters not. Look at me. Judge me by my size, do you?" - Yoda (The Empire Strikes Back)

Officially a teenager!

Lesley-Anne celebrated her 13th birthday on Saturday. It was a simple celebration with dinner at Sushi Tei on Friday, followed by ice-cream at Swensen's.

On Saturday, my sister and brother-in-law came over for a simple meal and we had a chocolate fudge cake. Just as Lesley-Anne had requested, most of her presents were books. I overheard Andre comment, "Hah? All books? Not a single Lego brick??" (Obviously to him, that was a complete waste of a gifting opportunity.)



How did my little girl become a teenager overnight? Lesley-Anne now wears the same shoe size as I do, and she can borrow my blouses (though we obviously have different tastes in styles). In the blink of an eye, she's now 13, though in my mind, I will always see her in her fresh new p1 school uniform and two pigtails, all of 6 years old.

Actually, Lesley-Anne becoming a teenager isn't a very drastic transition. A family member once commented that Lesley-Anne was born a teenager. That's because she has always been very mature for her age, thinking and saying things beyond her years.

Even as she reaches adolescence, I know we will continue to have our mother-daughter fights and there will be many times when we cannot see eye to eye, but her intelligence, level-headedness and uncanny sensitivity to those around her never fail to amaze me. So here's my message to her: May you never sell yourself short, always grow in your spirit of care for others, and know what a blessing you are to your family and friends.


Happy birthday, baby girl!

Let the little children come to me

Both Kenneth and I are first generation Christians in our families, meaning we were not born into Christian families and made the decision to become believers on our own accord. Like many Christian parents, we sometimes worry that our kids may not be as convicted in their faith because they had "inherited" it, so to speak.

For Andre especially, God always seemed more like a fairy tale - someone he hears about on Sundays and in school, but a little detached from his everyday life. Even though we say prayers at bedtime, his tend to sound a little like a wishlist, as is typical of many kids. Something along the lines of "Thank you God for a wonderful day, please help me with my studies and my badminton."

At some point after Easter Sunday, something changed. I'm not sure what or when but it started with me finding Andre reading the children's bible on Tuesday. We've had this bible in our home since Lesley-Anne was a baby but he's never been very interested in it. He then asked me about certain bible verses and where he could find them.

Yesterday, I came home to discover him totally engrossed in the bible during his play time (this last point is significant because play time is usually sacred to Andre - reading is work!) I still didn't know what to think. Then that night when I went into his room, he eagerly brought me the bible. To my wonder, I realised that he'd read it cover to cover in two days. As he flipped the pages, he excitedly recounted each story to me.

These are all stories he has heard before but for the first time, I could tell that they held meaning for him. Over an hour or so, he earnestly shared how God had worked in the lives of Jacob, David, Daniel, Joseph, Jonah, among many others. His childlike enthusiasim was infectious - through him, I experienced once again the fervour and fire of someone who had just discovered the marvel of a personal relationship with God.

He asked me many questions about God and his prayer that night was completely different from those in the past. I almost felt like I was listening in on a private conversation. I won't repeat it here because that would be disrespectful to him but it was touchingly heartfelt and personal.

There is no way to describe how I felt, no words can do it justice. When you see the hand of God touching your child, it's simply magical. I don't know if it was sparked by prayer over many years, the school's influence or something that someone said to Andre. I only know that it was the perfect Easter present, and as always, given in God's perfect time.

"I praise you, Father, Lord of heaven and earth, because you have hidden these things from the wise and learned, and revealed them to little children." - Matthew 11:25

How to fit a boy into an education system made for girls

Last week, I received a call from Andre's teacher telling me that Andre had been playing with his pens when he was supposed to be doing his math corrections.

Perhaps I should first paint the background. Every year without fail, I would receive calls from Andre's teachers telling me that Andre had been talking in class/not doing his homework/not bringing his books. I begin every school year ever so hopeful, praying that the year would be different but this dream has so far remained a pipedream.

The complaint call I mentioned above was the third this year (and we're barely into April!) It has gotten to a point where I can feel my blood pressure rising just hearing the teacher's voice. I appreciate that she's being conscientious and concerned but honestly, I feel that teachers are getting slightly too gung-ho about calling parents. I don't want to trivialise the matter but if playing with pens in class warrants a call to parents, she might as well put me on speed dial right now because I can guarantee I'll be hearing from her a lot more.

One of my friends previously remarked, "the Singapore education system is designed for girls." Of course it's a generalisation but it pretty much hits the nail on the head. Our system stresses compliance, following of detailed instructions and neat, structured work. Guess which gender tends to thrive better in such an environment.

Before all you mums of angelic boys and wayward girls protest, let me stress again: it's a generalisation. Much as I dislike gender stereotypes, having spoken to many mothers, I've discovered that for the most part, the kids who struggle to cope in our school system tend to be boys. The most apparent difference comes from parents who have both sons and daughters. Most of the time, the girls fit in better than the boys. My own personal experience attests to this - in all of Lesley-Anne's six years in primary school, I never received a single complaint call from any of her teachers.

I remember last year, Andre recounted to me most indignantly, "the teacher let the girls go for recess first AGAIN!"

"Why was that?"

"She said they were quieter."

"Is it true?"

"Yeeesss... but STILL!!"

My frustration arises from the fact that when teachers call me to complain, I feel helpless because there's a limit to what I can do. I've tried persuading, scolding, counselling, screeching, even pleading. Each time, Andre seems remorseful and repentant, and he accepts his punishment like a man, without whining or complaining. But I know the effects are temporary because it's like trying to tie a squirrel down. For him, having to spend hours at a go, quietly doing focused seat work, is challenging. It's too much to hope that there won't be a lapse every now and then. I can only keep praying that the lapses will be fewer and further in between.

Meanwhile, I'm tempted to tell the teacher, if you're waiting for Andre to turn into a good little girl, don't hold your breath.

I didn't want to turn this post into a whine so on the upside, I'm so thankful Andre discovered badminton. He attends badminton training with his good friend Paul, who's very similar in temperament to Andre. Last week as Paul's mum was observing them, she commented, "they're happiest when they're on the court."

It's true - when they're playing badminton, you can see their joy and utter abandonment. No matter how stressful it gets, our kids have this outlet a few times a week to release the tension from the constant grind of studying and help them recharge. That's truly something to be grateful for.