Happy Cream

My cousin is in town again to see her PhD supervisor. It's Chinese New Year (still) and we went down to Oriental City hoping to catch some 'culture'.

We were just in time to see a couple of 'lions' walk past us. Son was thrilled.

The week before when a senior boy came to junior school to talk about Chinese New Year he listened attentively and was rewarded with a paper dragon for answering a question correctly. He wanted to get another of those dragons (made with honey-comb paper) for his best friend.

Unfortunately the bakery had run out of his favourite buns and he sat glumly playing with some wooden chopsticks while the rest of us pigged out. Then 'Ouch!'.

A splinter. Tears. More tears.

No First Aid post at the centre. We ate as quickly as we could. Shopped as quickly as we could, and headed home.

None of us could see the splinter but it was obviously causing him much pain. Our eyes were showing their age and we found it extremely difficult to locate the source of his pain.

The next morning, without my contact lenses or glasses I was finally able to see a tiny splinter. Removed it ... so I thought. But son insisted that it was still hurting.

So back to Plan A, which was to take him to A&E to have it seen to, to make sure it does not get infected.

Three hours wait was what the electronic signboard said we would have. But son was seen to by a Nurse Practitioner and we were out within 45 minutes. We were even only slightly late for church service.

Now son is happy showing off his bandaged hand. We need to apply magnesium sulphate to it for a few days to draw out the splinter (if indeed it is still there). Or the body defences would break down the splinter.

Most reassuring of all: it is not going to travel round the body as my mum used to tell me.

But something in the cream seemed to be making our son rather floaty. We've started calling it his 'happy cream'.

Mr Elite Spy

Took son to the Spying Exhibition today at the Science Museum and he 'graduated' as an elite spy.

What a thrill!

He's a happy boy.

What a star!

We were all glad that school re-opened on Friday. The boys were all so excited about the snow still on the ground.

Son came home with 15 out of 15 for his spelling.

In the pool, swimming front crawl to the deep end is no more an issue.

His piano teacher wrote in her notes to me that she was impressed by his transposition skill. I had written earlier that son loves sitting at the piano to play tunes he has been playing in a different key from written.

He's been given the last tune in the book to play for next week. It's a tune that even I have not been able to master.

The strange thing is while I read much better than him, it does not translate so well to my fingers on the piano. I have to practise really, really hard to be able to play both hands together.

Son is not so competent at sight-reading, but once he's worked out the fingering -- his sense of rhythm is amazing -- he plays as if he has been playing that for ever. I am deeply envious.

What's the news about playing at school assembly then?

"Well, without my asking, Miss C says she'd arrange for me to play 'Race Against Time' at school assembly."

The last time Miss C said he should play "Indian Dance". 'Race' is a much more complicated piece.

And he jumps on the piano playing 'Race Against Time' without even bothering to look at the music.

At dinner I asked what was being said at Chapel.

"Something about leaders."

"Was Jesus a good leader?"

"No, you know that man who had twelve sons? But the youngest was chosen to be king."

"O! That's King David. He was not very strong like his brothers, was probably rubbish at football, but he was good at music, like you."

"Yes, he played this instrument like a little, what do you call it ...?"

"A lyre."

"Yes. A lyre. Can I play one too?"

At bath-time he said, "I want to be a TV star."

If he chooses to be and is able to be a good TV star, and brings much glory to God that way, let him be a TV star.

The last to be chosen

Last week and this we've been working on son not being too hard on himself.

Yesterday he came home, ostensibly happy, but when we got talking it transpired that two boys were chosen as captains, and they both picked all the boys who were best at football and he, my son, was the last one to be picked.

I am not surprised as he is not really into football. We've asked him many, many times if he would, like most of the boys in his class take football lessons. The answer has always been a consistent 'no'.

Yes, I'm afraid we've come to that. Not good at a certain skill, sign up for lessons in that. That's the singular disadvantage of having an only child.

He has no siblings to play and spar with. He does not have cousins living near us. All the neighbours' children are of the 'wrong' age.

Of course he needed some consoling, but not a lot. He's just come home from school last week with a shirt collar full of stickers, for giving several correct answers at the music quiz.

They were, apparently, also started on 'dictation' and again, with no preparation by us (as we don't bother very much with this any way) he apparently got all his answers right. Zero mistakes.

So he's got to learn that when it comes to quizzes and competitions of that sort, he would be the first to be chosen.

The good news is he's now agreed that doing some lessons at 'soccer school' during the school holidays might be a good idea, to give him opportunities to improve his ball skills.

As we worked on his swimming in the last summer, this summer he's going to work on his football, and hopefully he would, at some point win a 'Most Improved Player' award.

Superior Sperm

Some recent health problems meant a referral by the GP to the local hospital for a scan.

It was supposed to be 'urgent', but NHS being NHS an appointment was not given for another 11 weeks. Yes, it's true, if there was something very wrong with me, I might be dead by now.

Unlike my other complaint about NHS hospital appointments, I was not given "an invitation to make" an appointment.

I had a letter on a Thursday one week to say show up at the hospital the following Thursday at 8.10 am.

Frantic phone calls followed to try to change appointments, make alternative arrangements to take son to school, etc. In the end I was trudging very early to the bus stop to make my 8.10am appointment.

I have not had the privilege to speak to a doctor about the scan as yet. The sonographers did not find anything sinister but were miffed to discover that I have an "abnormal womb".

Without going into details, the shape of my womb is such that I should not have been able to carry a baby to full term and should have been suffering miscarriages, etc, etc.

Son was seventeen days overdue.

When he got home from school and feeling none too happy about something (can't remember what it was) I told him: actually he shouldn't even be existing.

There was a look of shock on his face.

I explained it to him as best as I could.

Well, like all babies born, they were all once a superior sperm. Nothing less.

From Psalm 139

13 For you created my inmost being;
you knit me together in my mother's womb.

14 I praise you because I am fearfully and wonderfully made;
your works are wonderful,
I know that full well.

15 My frame was not hidden from you
when I was made in the secret place.
When I was woven together in the depths of the earth,

16 your eyes saw my unformed body.
All the days ordained for me
were written in your book
before one of them came to be.

My confidence does not come from being pretty (which I am not) or clever (which some people think I am) or rich (which is a relative term). My confidence comes from the knowledge that in the sight of the all-powerful Creator God, I am "fearfully and wonderfully made".

He could have made me stronger and faster, but he didn't. The way I am was/is to him the perfection he wants in me.

Every child born, however deformed, is to God "fearfully and wonderfully made". Some translations of the Bible use the phrase "beautifully made". Not beautiful by human standards in the end-result perhaps, but beautiful in the process of being made, because God was involved in that process.

So my child, when you read this, remember, you are special.

Meanwhile on the piano

We were sad to learn that his current (and first) piano teacher has decided to leave.

She's moved away and offered jobs elsewhere and it seems logical for her to make this career move.

It's such a shame as son seems to get along with her so well and has learned so much.

He's had 12 lessons and come to the end of the book, bar the last page.

This weekend we had been trying to play the duets.

I said 'we', but son didn't really like the idea of playing with mummy, it seemed.

I struggled with my bit of the music -- although I read music and play other instruments, I've never taken lessons on the piano and only learned to play it myself recently -- and he struggled with his, but he did not ask for help.

This morning (Sunday), before we set off for church, we finally played the first part of the first duet together. Despite the mistakes we both made, it sounded really good.

So, more practice, and we had another go later this evening.

He still gets cross when he makes mistakes as son is a perfectionist, but I think -- I hope and pray -- that he's beginning to see/feel/understand the joys of making music after the hard work has gone in.

Front Crawl

Fridays are mad days.

Son has piano lessons at school in the morning. I head off to do my bit for parents and toddlers.

Son has swimming lessons at school in the afternoon. I collect him after school, and we head off together for his drama classes, which he absolutely loves.

There was excited chatter as he was released. Something about swimming right across the length of the pool doing front crawl without a float.

He's been able to do the length of the pool without a float for some time. Now the instructor is refining their skills and son was delighted that he could do the front crawl. Even turning his head on the side to breathe.

Last summer (early July), he was so nervous in water we were told to give him extra tuition in swimming. Looks like all those trips to the leisure centre paid off, despite having to pay an exhorbitant entry fee to the pool. It also helped that we stayed at the 'Y' in Singapore with its rooftop pool during our brief sojourn there last year.

Though he's still not the best at swimming in his class (a couple of boys are way ahead of the rest), son now likes being in water so much that he thinks swimming is his favourite sport.

That is what I call a 'result'.

I forget

Wanted to say something about son's achievement at school yesterday. But there was such a kafuffle getting onto the blog -- because Google decided to switch us bloggers all over to Beta whether we liked it or not, after which I couldn't log back on -- I've forgotten what I was doing to say.

There must be a reason for 'Old Blogger', for bloggers who are old and short on memory power and who want life kept simple.

Digital clocks are OK so long as the instructions on the display aren't so small I can't read them, for example.

My son's clock-CD player-radio was broken and we bought him a new one. The writing is so small on the display and the buttons so minute for my fat fingers I find it very difficult to get it to do what I want.

There's the trouble these days with young prime ministers, young politicians, young designers, they don't realize what life is like -- going to be like for them in years to come -- when life, vision and touch all get a bit fuzzy.

And you know, those letters they make you identify before adding a comment on a blog like this, it's hellish difficult to make out sometimes.

Padding things out here. Still can't remember the idea behind my original post!

The Tooth is Out

"Mum! Could you come to my room please?"

"No," was my prompt answer.

"I've lost my tooth!" And he was in our room in no time at all.

He did, tiny little tooth in his tiny little hand.

"It felt a little uncomfortable. I was grinding my teeth and it fell off. There's no more pain."

Thank you, God!

The new tooth did not cause him any pain, but the wobbly one seemed to be causing some distress. Now that it's out, the new tooth can move forward -- as a couple of dentists say it will.

We're absent from church while Dad is helping out at the baptismal service. Son has still got a cold and my injured leg and stomach cramps conspire to make us feel rather lazy.

O! Must not forget the iron tablet.

Talking Teeth

It was last Thursday evening, I think, when son approached us in the kitchen, finger in his mouth, mumbling, "I think I've got a wobbly tooth."

At last! Yay!

There was great excitement as there had been no sign of his baby teeth going at all. A new tooth has already sprouted behind this tooth but his teeth were solid like rock (OK, I exaggerate).

Son has all but given up hope of playing a wind instrument. So last week, after careful consideration, we decided that it would be a good idea for him to take up drums and percussions so that he could enjoy some ensemble playing which you can't do if you only played the piano. So the wobbly tooth is really welcome.

As for the piano playing, he's sailing through the 'difficult' pieces. He's even begun to work on the most difficult homework piece so far and he was even calm enough to work through several bars on his own this morning, both hands together. He didn't get upset that he didn't get all of it perfect the first time around.

There is hope.

Thank you, God.

Frustration

Well, he actually managed to string the notes together without too much difficulty after all.

Now it's only a question of practice to make it sound 'confident'.

Which is why it is so-so-so frustrating.

I know he can do it, but it's often, "I am rubbish!"

Bah!

Having second thoughts about him doing exams. If it stresses him up so much, why bother?

Do or die?

But would he attempt a new piece by himself?

It's too difficult, he says, and leaves it.

Don't mind if he leaves it, but he then screws himself up into a ball under the piano and cries, saying he is stupid, he can't figure out his music.

It might help if he plays the music right hand, then left hand, then both, instead of trying to play with both hands at the same time.

Arrrgh! What do I do?

Piano Exam

Looks like son is really keen to do his piano exam. Said he wouldn't mind if he just passed.

Which is unusual as he often does expect himself to be ahead of the rest.

Went to the RAF Museum and according to an exhibit, he is better than 52% of all the people who have taken the test and he is therefore ready to begin pilot training.

He does so want to take up flying, my boy. In fact he has set his eyes on a particular (boarding) school because they have a flying club. We have set our eyes on the same school because they teach Mandarin Chinese.

But would he prepare for his next piano lesson?

Apart from playing a tune here, a scale there, he does not seem terribly interested in doing the hard work.

Jumped in the deep end of the pool today

With a float, and swam the length of the pool a couple of times.

"I'm really pleased I did that. It was fun."

My son enjoying being in the pool with his feet not touching the floor? Miracles do happen. And he was so chuffed.

Played one of his compositions to piano teacher. Then Teacher made him play to the next boy waiting for lessons, the Head Boy, no less.

Also, he told me, he's been asked to play "Indian Dance" at Assembly for the big boys.

Teacher wrote in son's book that he is talented and a natural at the piano. She is going to push him. How do I feel about him sitting his Grade 1 exam very soon?

My initial reaction is "Not". Son would not be happy if he did not gain at least a Merit.

Does son want to do exams soon? Apparently a resounding "Yes".

Enjoyed his drama classes. We had nice chats on our walk to and from drama class. We noted especially how 6+ boys do not often play the piano at 'big boy assembly'. Son and a classmate were the first.

Good news from the accountant, too. My tax bill is much lower than expected.

Brill!