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In my world: Blessing is her middle name

DD drew up this activity sheet for her brother the other night. In her own words, “it has a ‘Find the Differences’ section, a ‘Trace the Dotted Lines’ section and the below is for Di Di to colour”.

And she sat with him patiently, explaining the sections, keeping an energetic younger brother quietly occupied as her father and I leaned back to catch a breather from the long day.


Sometimes in the middle of cleaning the rooms, I discover little gems left behind by the children. This Friday series was started with the intention of celebrating the imagination and creativity in a young child’s world…and hoping that it’ll bring a little ray of inspiration and joy to your day, as it does mine.


Papercraft, Prime and Pteranodons

kitchen counter dusty with icing sugar
perfect recipe of vanilla buttercream swirled in the mixer
gobs of tissue paper, piled up toothpicks of Wilton deep red and royal blue
kids bent over with laughter and giggles
sugar highs from too much cake
late night papercraft ventures and conversations with your lifelong best friend
of how you will never attempt such a crazy thing again
yet knowing full well that you’ll go ahead and do it anyway and crazier the next time round

three hugs a day for long life
three cheers each meal for birthday celebrations

and three glorious reasons and persons to celebrate life with for life.

Preschooler Art: Recycle Art

I had no idea what she had in mind on Sunday afternoon when she asked me if she could recycle the empty tissue pack from which she’d removed the last sheet of tissue paper to blow her nose with.

What can one reuse a plastic tissue paper pack for?

Oh, unimaginative me!


He squares his shoulders
Walking tall to school in his new shirt of blue
So much like his father
So much his own little man too

The children sit in a row
Reciting their lesson with their teacher on tiled floor
And I catch his face light up aglow
As we sneak him a wink round the frame of the door

It’s a wonderful day for a birthday
All together now, smile for a picture
“How old are you now, God bless you today”
It’s a great month to turn a grand four!

Copyright –

Graphic precis

She draws a flower and colours it in on the sheet of paper.

“Look, Mummy.”

“Very nice, dear.  Um, how about doing some writing?  You’ve been drawing a lot and we’ve not touched writing for some days.”

A messy sheaf of recycled paper full of her brother’s and her drawings is stacked loosely on the blue table in the room, teasing me cheekily with its precarious tipping over the table’s edge.

“No…I don’t want to write”.

“Just a little?  Shall I pick a short verse or phrase?”

Silently, thoughtfully, she fingers the markers in the box.

“Mummy, how do you spell ‘Jesus’”?

“J E S U S”.

“J E S U S. Okay.”  I can hear the light scratching of the marker against paper as she prints each letter out.

“And this is the bread, and this is the blood, and a heart, ‘cos God loves us and Jesus died on the cross.”

“Very nice. Pretty much the gospel in a nutshell! Are you drawing anything else?”

Nevermind the writing practice, I tell myself it can wait another day.

“I’ll draw…a little girl standing here, and a little boy…”

The marker continues etching out a busy little trail.

“…when we sin…Jesus is sad…but when we are good…He is happy…right?”

I nod.

“So this is wrong…”  she marks an X beside the sad face, “and this is right!”, she finishes off with a tick beside the happy face. 

She goes on to finish a few more details on the sheet, before handing it to me as a present, and running off to join her brother in play.

Leaving me here holding on to this precious piece of paper.  I’m not adding this one to the stack. 🙂 

I don’t know that we’d done writing practice as I would have envisioned it to be…

but I’m pretty sure we’ve just had a very good session of Word practice!


All your children will be taught by the Lord,

    and great will be their peace. – Isaiah 54:13

Impossible to please

“Noooo, you wouldn’t!”

What does one do with a stubborn unbelieving three-year old?

As DD and I settle down for bedtime, I can still hear our son echoing the irritating refrain he’s carried all day long as he now challenges his father’s instruction to brush teeth first as a pre-requisite to a bedtime story.

And I breathe a sigh of respite, somewhat relieved that it’s DH handling him and not me, because that same little boy has been issuing me and his sister the same challenge all day for the past couple of weeks.

“I WILL read you a story AFTER you brush your teeth. Don’t you trust that daddy and mummy will be true to our word, especially when you know we always carry out what we say we will do?!”

And then right there, in the stillness, in the darkness – it hits me.

“No, you wouldn’t!”.

In spite of a track record of miracles, open doors and promises written in black and white, in His Word.

Now. I think I’ve done enough time on the daily journey with God to know better than to challenge Him outright.

But the murmured “can-we-be-sure”s.  The just-in-case Plan B’s which are really more Plan A’s subjugating His plan to the background.

The not outright but subtly positioned “No you wouldn’t”s that would grieve His spirit equally if not more. The dissenting voice of unbelief, masking itself on the surface as an “I believe” while really charting its own course.

Really, that’s me challenging His faithfulness as well.  That’s me in the shoes of my little boy with the furrowed brow, stubbornly delivering  the same refrain and frustration to my Father.

And we who require of our son to trust and obey the word of his earthly, fallible parents, should we not also trust and obey in our divine Heavenly and infallible Father?  Even more fully so…?


“And without faith it is impossible to please God, because anyone who comes to Him must believe that He exists and that He rewards those who earnestly seek Him.” ~ Hebrews 11:6


Happiness is –

Hugging each other in the morning, and the afternoon and the evening and the night again, just because.

Three chocaholics sharing ONE chocolate milkshake.

Bedtime prayers for “going to the Singapore Zoo, Jurong Bird Park and Dinosaur Show”. Every night. Even though the last time we all went was six months ago.

Counting down from months to days to the actual day of bundling into the car – horses and dinosaurs and Transformers and all – at the break of day for the five and a half-hour drive to Grandpa and Grandma’s home.

Holidays spent eating and sleeping and playing and…eating and sleeping and playing…and eating and sl…


In my world: Love letter


Sometimes in the middle of cleaning the rooms, I discover little gems left behind by the children. This Friday series was started with the intention of celebrating the imagination and creativity in a young child’s world…and hoping that it’ll bring a little ray of inspiration and joy to your day, as it does mine.

Confessions of a lousy business traveller

We check our watches, lean back against the cushions and take a moment to gather our thoughts, watching from the window the milling crowds in the mall going about their weeknight shopping.

The restaurant has stylishly tall ceilings, ornate chandeliers with warm lighting and a pretty water feature bubbling alongside the plush fabric of  banquette seats and formally set tables with starched black napkins.

The waiter bustles about filling our glasses and arranging the appropriate cutlery for our orders in a manner so elaborate, it’s amusing to watch.
He places a platter of crispy pappadum topped with chopped onions, tomatoes and spices in the centre of the table and invites us to begin our meal.

It’s all wonderful.
But really, I’m pretty sure neither of us wants to be here.

It is 9.45pm, fourteen hours since we all first started out the work day, and the effects of being cooped up in back-to-back meetings is showing its toll on all our faces.

My female colleagues and I, we chat a little about how dinner times are different between Singapore and India and the United States – dinner is typically at around nine in India…this is bedtime to the Singaporeans and Americans.

Halfway through the conversation, one seated beside me, excuses herself to answer her mobile phone.
She speaks animatedly, and even though I don’t know the language, it’s not too difficult to make out that she’s assuring her little girl that she’ll be home real soon.

We turn our attention back to the business dinner conversation at hand.
But not before a candid, spontaneous exchange of smiles and words – from one working mom to another – about how culture and language and location may be different, but challenges are similar wherever one is, in the world.

Similar challenges of planning logistics and arrangements when having to leave home earlier in the morning to attend first-thing-in-the-morning meetings.
Similar phone conversations, in any language, of why we can’t be home yet and yes, we’ll be home soon as we can.
Similar polite excuses to leave the dinner earlier to attend to the needs of home and husband’s dinner and children’s bedtimes.

And in the pensive car ride back to the hotel, I think about these similarities.

About how I can’t be home yet and how badly I’m wanting to be, as soon as I can.

And the differences.

Hers, a twenty-minute commute. Mine, a thirty-three hour countdown and two thousand five hundred miles in between now and then.

Preschooler Art: Mother’s Day

Our favourite memories of the day – in both digital and drawn form, courtesy of DD.