Oh, so that’s what a tantrum sounds like

Ow! Ow!

Kai is growing really quickly. Every day he comes up with something new. Like yesterday morning, he tried taking off his pyjamas on his own – and I know I can’t be bothered to word the event in a more exciting fashion, because if you’re not a parent, you won’t get why I’m so amazed and proud anyway. Just like the time he said “chicken”.

If I were to dig through this blog’s archives, I’d probably find some post where I wrote “bring on the terrible twos”, but because we have to run after Kai almost every waking minute of the day, I simply don’t have time to dig through this blog’s archives.

But bring it on he has. Naomi and I are currently experiencing the brunt of Kai’s spectacular meltdowns.¬†They happen without warning, out of the blue, as sudden and unexpected as an Orchard Road flash flood.

Self-radicalisation and the terrorism expert

To accompany last month’s word of the month, “culvert”, comes a term from the Home Team, and it is “self-radicalisation”.

I’ve been swamped with work lately, and have only caught snippets of what this ‘self-radicalisation’ means in today’s internet and new media age.

Apparently, something to do with surfing bad stuff on the net that makes you want to radicalise yourself. (Back in my day, we self-radicalised to less high tech things like Playboy and Hustler).

But the funnier thing to me in all this is that in nearly 9 years since 9/11, our nation’s trusted news sources have continued to call on a self-professed terrorism expert whose opinions have been pilloried elsewhere, for various reasons.

I dunno. Maybe in our country, we don’t hear alarm bells very well.

What becomes of the broken hearted (world cup fans)?

They mope for a coupla days and still watch the 3rd and 4th placing match even though they’ve spent the morning lamenting about how meaningless these matches are and how they should scrap them and go straight for the grand final.

Or they pass their passion on to the next generation of football tragics:

All’s well in the world because our son can say “chicken”

He said it loudly and clearly – possibly the clearest he’s every pronounced any (English) word. The rest are approximations which we accept because he’s a baby and we’re his parents.

“Chicken”, he said. And then Mama took out her iPhone and tried to make him repeat the word. As you’d expect, it wasn’t going to happen. Nope, Nada, Nando’s.

All he did was point at the bowl of chicken strips that we made for him for dinner, and signed for more. But cute lah, our son.