Would you believe it that my son made me breakfast? He fried eggs and sausages! Albeit the sausages were a little burnt but that was the best breakfast I have had all my life! Just slap me red and call me Susie! He broke the egg gently and ever so carefully let is drop on the pan. I thought it was poetry in motion. He is after all 12 and he already has his IC, which I must say was a rather painless process and that is saying A LOT when it comes to our public service!!
A week after he turned 12, we took Mikey to the national registration dept on a Saturday. We thought it was best that we were there early to beat the cue but good ol' sleepy head me thought it best to sleep in that morning. By the time I was conscious and ready, it was already 11am. So we rushed out and got there before 11.30am.
We got our number from counter 1. Waited to be served. Then got our forms filled and his thumbprint recorded. The clerk was surly but uneventful and he gave us our collection receipt. Off then we went to counter 15 to have his photo taken. And we were in the car speeding off to brunch before 11.50am!!! Wasn't that a near miracle?!?!?!?
So here is my "adult" son cooking and tinkling in the kitchen....well! He wasn't clumsy or disorganized and really looked like he knew his way around. Either he has done this a lot without me knowing or he is a natural! Anyhow, it got me thinking about how much pampered our brats are today. Here he is at 12 frying eggs and we are popping the champagne.
By the time I was 12, I was already going to the market to get the week's groceries and this is the wet market. I was putting the clothes in the washing machine, taking it out to dry, sweeping and mopping the floors, folding my own clothes, doing the dishes, filling up the kerosene stove with kerosene (dun!!) and looking after 7 kids that my mom was babysitting. We had to walk 12 miles to school in the rain without proper shoes and ate nothing but tapioca all day while the Japanese rationed our food and we had to go down to the rive to pan tin mine, tap rubber trees....wait a minute.....that's my parent's stories. Sorry....wrong antenna!
This on top of my school work and teenage angst. We didn't show much angst then else we be murdered! My dad being an Indian is not afraid to kill his kids! Just like Russell Peters said, "If I kill one, I will just make another one. And I will tell the new one what an idiot the previous one was."
But nevertheless, my son is growing up mentally. Physically still a bit of a runt. Got that from his mom's side of the family. I am very proud of him though and I certainly wouldn't mind him growing up to be a world famous chef and he will cook me something all Frenchy with snails in it and I will say in my best village bumpkin Cantonese accent "Ni ko mat yeh lei ka??"
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