I IS VERY SELF-ENTERTAINING; THIS I NO CHOICE BUT GOTTA ADMIT.


Apparently, my imagination appears to be a tad too overtly fertile; so much so that at times - okie, most of the time - I have no trouble keeping myself amused. Not a bad thing, you might say. But honestly, it can appear quite bewildering and freakish to people around when I break into a silly grin suddenly or giggle dreamily and uncontrollably to myself out of the blue - while on the MRT or bus or in the pantry.

SEEING SOMEONE WEARING A HORIZONTALLY-STRIPPED BLACK AND YELLOW-ORANGEY SHIRT?
What a mambo-jumbo-hippo-gargantuan-colossal bumblebee. The Hulk version.
And then, my brain cells will automatically launch into highly overdrive mode. And then I'll visualize, clearly, in my mind a magnificent pair of enormous translucent wings poking out of the person's back, a nasty-looking sting at the person's bottom, and a blood-thirsty sucker tip replacing where the person's nose should have been. I'll then picture that person flying and zooming peskily around and around the vicinity at top speed.
All these, completed aptly with the jarring sound of irritating, cacophonous, rapid buzzing of wings at my ears.
And then, I'll snicker and grin to myself.

HEARING ME COUGHING, THE KIND SOUL WHO WAS SEATED BESIDE ME OFFERS ME HIS SMITH MINTS?
I'll think of the Smith mints commercial. The one in which the lead actor pops some mints into his mouth to refresh his breath before making out with his girlfriend, and unfortunately, the girlfriend's dog was so attracted to his mint breath that it ended up force-kissing the unwilling boyfriend?
I'll then amuse myself by imagining that the kind soul is trying to hit on me. And then I'll think to myself, "What a horrible pick-up line. He needs some serious practice."


I've always been pretty much aware that I am pretty much prone to self-entertaining and self-amusing. But this fact has never really sinked in or hit me hard; but has always been more of a subconscious knowledge. It was only after what happened yesterday evening, then did I realize that perhaps, I talk to myself a tad too much for my own good.

Yesterday evening, after knocking off from work at 5.30pm, I took Bus 197 to head down to Clarke Quay for my weekly BS lesson at 6pm. Expectedly, there was the usual peak hour crowd. After standing on the bus for ages, I was only too glad when someone sitting in front of where I was standing vacant her seat. I plonked down happily.

It was then I realized that the old uncle sitting beside me seems a little strange.
1) He's sitting with his legs spread apart. Very.
2) His left hand is resting on the middle of his groin. No, not on the inner thighs. But on the MIDDLE of his groin. On his privates.
3) The entire of his left arm kept twitching every now and then.

I tried to ignore it, but could not resist stealing surreptitious peeks out of the corner of my eyes every minute or so. How could I NOT look??? It's not everyday that we see something like this, do we? And moreover, it helps to be wise and on the alert, doesn't it? What if he attempts to do something improper to a totally oblivious me?
Want to eat my tofu, also cannot so easy, right???
Meanwhile, while being mindful about not letting my guard down, I gave him the luxury of the benefit of the doubt. Perhaps he has a medical condition, and this explains the frequent twitching of his left arm? And maybe it just so happens that he has a personal habit of sitting with his legs spread far apart, and it just so happens that his hand is resting on somewhere... Errmmm... Sensitive???

But then, my ever-active brain cells started to go into overdrive again.

OH MY!!! IS HE MASTERB**ING???!!!


I bit my tongue, not knowing whether to snicker, or to frown. To feel irritated, or to be amused. Just then, he crossed his arms over his chest. And instantly, popping up in my mind readily and gleefully like a jack-in-the-box, is a pristine clear image of a lusting hand - with groping fingers - inching its way sneakily towards my side.
Feeling threatened and insecure, I crossed my arms over my chest too.

Of course, I felt a small gush of relief when he alighted the bus. As there were still people standing due to a lack of seats, I shifted in automatically.

AND THEN, a horrible thought jumped into my mind, resounding like a hard slap.









HOW CAN I FORGET TO CHECK?!?!?! ALAMAK!!!
DIE LAH! WAH LAU!!!

GOT SPERMS A NOT???!!!





And I slipped a hand under my lap, deftly sliding my palm across the surface of the seat. And thankfully, felt nothing creamy.



(-_-")
I think I really enjoy talking to, and scaring, myself.

THE WORKING ENVIRONMENT

MP Biomedicals. Located at Block 85, The Cavendish, Science Park Drive, Science Park 1.

This is the place where I'll be "labouring" at until, tentatively, 3rd of August (Friday). This is my 3rd week at work. Coincidentally, this is also where I was attached to for my Student Internship Programme (SIP) stint during my last and final semester in Temasek Polytechnic. Have never thought or imagined that 2 years on in the year 2007, I'll be back to working where I used to.

Last week, an external audit came by and performed the mandatory, periodical check to ascertain whether our laboratories are adhering to the safety regulations. Across the various departments, there was a sudden ruckus of paperwork and documentation filing. Printing of the MSDS (Material Safety Data Sheet). Clearing of the corridors and pathways. Wearing of the ugly safety goggles. Tidying up of the Cold Rooms. Blah blah blah.

Just the other day, my supervisor from Quality Control Department handed me my Training Record Sheet to update and countersign on the new skills/techniques I've been taught since my Day 1 at work 3 weeks ago. I've signed this very same Training Record Sheet during my internship days. And it totally surprised me at how well-preserved the document is. What rattles me even more, is seeing my own signature reflecting back at me. And the accompanying date? 5th December 2005. This is the particular week which I had been "transferred" over temporarily to the QC Department for greater work exposure, instead of being stuck at my assigned Reagent and Assembly Department.

It is my personal conviction (you don't necessarily have to agree with me. But heck, come to think of it, I don't really care) that nothing's a more tragic disaster than losing the inner person who has once been a part of you. Forgetting your roots. Of who and what you once were. How you once had been. And how things have changed and progressed since then. And seeing the signatures which are dated in the year 2005 brings to remembrance the me 2 years back. Flashes of memories.
How SIP has resulted in me going for super-duper frequent make-up CGMs. How it unexpectedly turned out to be one of the biggest turning point of my life yet. How spiritually childish and immature I was (com'on, give me some credit. I was only 1-year-old in Christ at that time). How I was just a graduating polytechnic student back then, with future unknown.
Further studies? I'm not in the top 5% of my polytechnic cohort in TP, let alone the whole of the 5 polytechnics in Singapore.
Apply for the local universities? It'll be tough getting a place and competing with the JC students. And chances are, the permanent jobs would have all been snatched up by fellow graduands by the time I - heaven forbids - receive the rejection letter to inform me that my university applications have, unfortunately, failed.
Enter the working society? But I absolutely abhor the thought of myself stopping at just diploma level. Even if it's working interim to save up for further studies. If study, study all the way. With all your heart. If work, work all the way. With all your heart. This is my mindset (And again, you don't have to agree with me. Because - again - I don't really care).
And given the off-chance that I get to continue my studies, what about the exorbitant tuition fees? And transportation costs? And living expenditures? And cost of purchasing of reference books and printing of lecture notes? All these call for a considerable huge amount of cash.
Apply for the private universities? Given my financial status, it'll be so unwise. I'll graduate being head over heels in mountains and mountains of bank debts, paying the installment repayments through my nose month after month.

The unknowns. The uncertainties. Lost. Insecurities.
Apply? Or not? But it'll be taking a risk. What if it's unsuccessful, and all the good permanent jobs would have been gone by then. Local? Or private? Are private degrees recognized and reputable? Source for a permanent job? Or take a risk and settle for a temporary one? I need a source of income. And I need it badly. What if my application is successful? What about tuition fees and expenditures? What if it's not? That means I've lost out on the permanent jobs. Accept private universities? Bank loan? Expensive!!!


Steps to take - unknown and unsure. Lost - to apply or not, local or private, work temp or perm? Desperation - financial funds running low. Need a source of income. But temp or perm??!! Confusion - What to do? Where to go? What to apply? Where to get the money for further studies?
It'll take a big miracle to pull through this.
If there is a time in my 19 years of living that I need one so badly, it would be this. I want to continue studying so badly.
And He provided. He opened the doors. And gave me more than what I dared to believe for.


It is really amazing how fast 2 years have passed. Time really flies, I guess. I'm now taller (I hope), slimmer (I pray), prettier (I insist), less spiritually immature, happier, more cheerful and chatty, and yes - not forgetting - older in age.

Anyway, I'm currently attached to the Quality Control Department. And I only found out last week (thanks to the impending external audit who is due for "visitation", staffs working in QC lab had to read through a boring document on Safety Regulation in preparation for the visit. Yawn.) that the QC Lab is classified as a BSL-2 (BioSafety Level 2) Laboratory. Level 2 only, not so bad, thankfully. *heave a sigh of relief* I don't wish to catch any infectious diseases and die young.

Laboratories are graded in BioSafety Level. The lowest - and safest - BSL grading is Level 1. And the highest - and most "dangerous" - is BSL-4. Those in BSL-4 grading are the laboratories that involve working with "dangerous and exotic agents that pose a high individual risk of aerosol-transmitted laboratory infections and life-threatening diseases. Click for Source" And for this reason, entry to any BSL-4 (and even BSL-3) laboratories is strictly and tightly controlled. Even the direction of air flow is regulated. And there exists the double-door access door to the BSL-4 laboratories. And staffs working in these laboratories have to don on the full PPE (Personal Protective Equipment) - the one which makes one looks like an astronaut? Does it ring a bell?

Luckily, BSL-2 laboratories are not so bad. They are "similar to BSL-1 and is suitable for work involving agents of moderate potential hazard to personnel and the environment. It differs from BSL-1 in that (1) laboratory personnel have specific training in handling pathogenic agents and are directed by competent scientists; (2) access to the laboratory is limited when work is being conducted; (3) extreme precautions are taken with contaminated sharp items; and (4) certain procedures in which infectious aerosols or splashes may be created are conducted in biological safety cabinets or other physical containment equipment. Click for Source"


Okie, I admit it's all dry stuff. These boring stuff nearly bored me to tears in LMQA (Laboratory Management and Quality Assurance) lectures, which is one of the compulsory modules for Biomedical Science students in the 3rd year, 1st semester.

More interesting stuffs.
Since I am in the QC Department, we have to run loads of quality tests everyday. And I'm assigned to the Western Blot bench. Western Blot is an immunological technique which is used to identify the antibodies that are present in a person's bloodstream, and what viral proteins (of a certain virus of interest) these antibodies target at.


(From left to right): Strong positive result, weak positive result, weak positive result, negative result.

Okie. The above is a picture of 4 antigen strips containing HIV antigenic viral proteins on the surface. The dark bands on the strips are regions where antibodies have attached to the various viral proteins. The 1st strip on the left, being a strong positive, naturally show more protein band profiles than the other 3 strips. The last strip, being a negative result, of course shows no bands at all. This means that your body does not have any antibodies to HIV, implying that your immune system has not been exposed to any HIV particles to date - yet.
And you see the most prominent band in the middle of the 3 positive strips? It is known to be the famous p24 HIV viral protein.

Simply put, if I withdraw a sample of your blood, centrifuge and spin it down, obtain the serum (in layman terms, the clear yellowish-white plasma), carry out Western Blotting, and if the result obtained at the end of the test is similar to any of the first 3 strips as shown in the photo - Welcome to the world of AIDs; you're HIV-positive.

Cool, huh? So smart of the scientist who came up with this technique. Isn't it totally intriguing? That's why I've always loved Biology and Biomedical stuffs.

A CHILD DRAWS...


It's quite a joyful experience discovering something unexpectedly while looking through your old stuffs. Especially those long-forgotten delights that have been left aside in one corner of the drawer to collect dust.

These are what I found while I was sifting through one of my old clear plastic holder files last night.

Haha... Man, I nearly forgot how I used to enjoy drawing and doodling when I simply feel like doing so. And the drawings were done way back in 2001. That's 6 donkey years ago, when I was 15; a Secondary 3 student. It's been so long since I last took up a drawing pencil and doodle freelance; that even the thought of doing it feels so foreign.

Anyway, pardon the bad quality of the pictures. Blame it on the bad resolution. My camera phone is only a miserly 2 megapixel. I think one of the first things that I'll purchase once I enter the working society is to get a digital camera. FINALLY. I've always a soft spot for Cyber Shot cameras. So jaw-dropping pretty, aren't they?




Cyber Shot DSC T-20. WWAAAAHHH LLLIIEEWWW. It's just sooo pretty and sweet and slick, can? And it's 8.1 MP! Ahhh...




And the best of all: DSC T-100!!! Awww... What gorgeous babes!!! And it's 5x optical zoom! I'm in luuurrrvveee. Cupid has me hook, line, and sinker.
Charmed. Off. My. Feet.
Totally.
Would you be mine, moi amour???

All these things are of immense sentimental value. All the monster drawings which my kids draw; their first grin; their first step; their first spoken word; all these treasures I plan to keep it for sakekeeping, or have it down on film (or rather, more precisely put, burn into CDs).

Anyway, it's 1am. Time to hit the sack. Some princesses gotta work. ;)

Damon Scott + monkey puppet

THIS. IS. BEYOND. BEAUTIFUL.

My goodness.

Unbelievable.

She is like an angel.

Look at the way she seamlessly and effortlessly raptured the audience captivated.
Look at how she holds her own and carries herself.

AND! she! is! only! 6! year! old!!!


Sometimes, it utterly amazes and astounds me at how unexpectedly certain seemingly unimpressive things can touch a person's heart.
Whoever says that more is always better?
And what is this warped theory that in order to be extraordinary, things have to be complicated?
Sometimes, people get deluded and hopelessly entangled up in this fast-paced and superficial world, competing hard to impress. Unsurprisingly, the simplest and most foundational truth is neglected and gradually, forgotten.

How beautiful is simplicity.
Being real, natural, and original, is such a precious gem of a rare quality.

Out of the eater, came something sweet.
Let the weak say they are strong, and the poor that they are rich.
The foolish things of the world to put to shame the wise, and the weak things of the world to put to shame the things which are mighty.


Be who you truly are - unpretentious - and dare to risk public criticism.


How beautiful a sight to behold.

NICE SINGING

NICE SINGING

AH


Woke up yesterday morning with a pair of super-swollen eyes.



Told you it's awfully swollen, didn't I?
And no, it's not some insect's bite.

Anyway, my temperature has been fluctuating up and down like a dysfunctional yo-yo ball. At 6am yesterday morning, it was 38.9oC. At 8am, after sipping a cup of Panadol Cold and Flu Hot Remedy, it dropped to a comfortable 37.7oC before increasing gradually again.

I was so lethargic that I hit the sack at 8pm last night. Before drifting off to dreamland, I took my temperature again and it read 38.9oc again.

I slept until 10.30pm last night, when I was roused from my sleep by a strong feeling of discomfort. Man, I could feel the heat emanating from my body. I felt like a human fire-torch.

I gave the oral thermometer a good shake, and popped it into my mouth yet again. To my dismal, it read a record-high reading of 39.5oC this time round. Mustering whatever strength I've left, I climbed out of my bed unwittingly, dragged myself into the kitchen, and made another cup of Panadol Cold and Flu Hot Remedy.

I know I'm not suffering much of a cold; but more of a fever, dry cough, and a blocked nose. But I need some paracetamol to bring my temperature down a little; I have no wish to get my brain fried alive. Desperation calls for desperate measures.

My head feels so heavy now. Went to the doctor this morning, and he gave me 3 medicine (1 for fever, 1 for influenza, and 1 for cough), all of which may cause drowsiness. Great. I took the medicine at 12pm today. And it knocked me out completely until 5pm. And it feels so good to have a nice, long, uninterrupted, deep sleep. I could hardly sleep well for the past few nights, and it seems to take ages for dawn to break.


Going for make-up cell (again) tomorrow at Tiong Bahru. Hopefully the temperature would have subsided a little by then.

STILL SICK


I think I've caught Cherissa's bug on Saturday. Haha...

It started with a runny nose last night. Waking up the next morning, the runny nose has developed and exacerbated into a hacking cough, and a slight temperature. And the condition just steadily deteriorated throughout the day.

Just checked my temperature a moment ago. The 1st reading was 38.2oC. The 2nd time gave a reading of 38.4oc. Determined to get a more consistent reading, I took it for the 3rd time, and it reads 38.6oC.

Being a smart lady, I - of course - decided to stop at the 3rd reading.

Anyway, a fever is - by right - not an illness by itself. An elevated body temperature indicates that a person's immune system is gearing up to counter-fight the viral/bacterial infection(s). So, in a manner of speaking, having a fever is a good thing. It means that your immune system is working fine.

Now, my body feels like it's on fire. But my extremities feel so terribly cold and chilly, even though I've closed my bedroom windows and did not even bother to switch on the fan - much less the air-conditioner. And my entire body feels so totally sapped of energy, just like a lump of mashed potatoes.


And to make things worse, I don't have any anti-pyretic pills at home. So, I had no choice but to pop some Panadol Flu Tablets. Now, even that option has died on me, because I've just pop the last 2 flu pills into my mouth 4 hours ago.

I have no more pills with me. That is, unless you take into consideration Panadol Menstruation Cramp Tablets. But unless I am very much mistaken, I don't see the rationale of taking those pink pills to curb my fever, flu, and cough.

AND, as if things are not bad enough, I am starting work tomorrow. I've got a temporarily job at my former polytechnic internship workplace in Science Park. GOSH, really hope that the fever would subside by tomorrow morning. If not, most probably I'll be sacrificing my lunchtime to pop by UHWC (the medical clinic catered to the students in campus) in school, which is just a stone's throw away, to grab some medication. And I hope it will subside by Thursday night. Grrr...

SO SICK


My nose is going to drop off anytime soon.

Arghhh.

VOLUME DOES NOT MEAN AUTHORITY


A couple of days ago, I was - as usual - giving tuition to the 2 little sisters. Since the kids are currently enjoying their one-month-long mid-year vacation, the Mom had arranged for tuition to be reduced from 2 times per week to 1 time per week - on every Tuesdays; instead of the usual Saturdays and Mondays.

This Tuesday, after having ended an 1.5hour session with the elder sister who is in Primary 5, I was left with another grueling 1.5hour to complete with the younger one. She hopped into the room, placed her assessment books on the table, and skipped her way back out to get her pencil cases (yes, amazingly, she has 2 pencil cases). I took a sip of my Peach Tea drink.
It's tiring to talk relentlessly for a full an hour and a half, you know?

The bubbly girl bounced back into the room and took her seat beside me. Reaching out to take the Mathematic assessment book, I flipped open the pages, only to realize that not even a single question out of the 10 given was attempted.
I frowned lightly, but kept my mouth shut. It's alright. Perhaps the questions proved too much of a challenge for her.

Reaching out a second time, I flipped through the English assessment book next. I frowned harder.
For English, I had given her an entire topic revision exercise to complete as homework assignment, and only 1 miserable PAGE was done - 2 Close Passages. So this is the grand amount of revision and homework completed after our last tuition session; which took place 2 whole weeks ago? 2 short Close Passages? Wonderful.

I threw her a cold, hard stare, and demanded an explanation. Just like any other students, the reason given was that she could not understand the questions. But just like any other kids, her story was full of loopholes.

I glanced down at the miserable, lone page that has her handwriting on it. I'm not so naive to get lied to so easily. Surely there is a way to call her bluff.
Turning the offending page with slightly more force than was required, I gave a cursory look-through at the next section, which is Comprehension.

"Have you read this Comprehension passage?" I inquired.

"Yes, but I don't understand." She chirped unconvincingly.

For a moment, I gave her the benefit of the doubt. After all, her English is weak for Primary 2 standard, and definitely has more than enough room for improvement.
I turned to the other side of the page, and read the MCQ questions based on the Comprehension passage. Positioning and angling the assessment book back towards her, I poked at the face of the book with my right forefinger.

"Read aloud Question. 1 for me." I commanded coldly.

"The King has ___ antique vases." She read obediently.

"So? How many?" I barked.

She turned back to the Comprehension passage. The answer is directly on the first line of the first paragraph.

"Oh..." She looked sheepish. "50 vases."

"Do you mean to say that the Comprehension passage is so ridiculously difficult that you can't even do Question 1?" I threw her yet another hard stare. "Tell me the truth. Have you even attempted to read the passage?"

She dared not to even raise her eyes. Staring off randomly into space, she muttered almost to herself, "I didn't read it."

"So why did you lie that you could not understand what the passage is talking about?" I retorted.

Without bothering to wait for an answer, I set the English assignment book aside and reached out again for the Math one. Positioning the book in front of her again, I jabbed at the face of the book yet again, and requested her to read out Question 1.

"Mary saved $xx.xx on January, $x.xx on February, and $xxx.xx on March. How much did she save for the three months?" She read aloud.

"So! Tell me, which part of the question do you not understand?" I demanded, deliberately lacing and peppering my question with sarcasm.

By now, I was feeling pissed. This is not the first time she has not fully completed her homework assignment. But it has never been so ridiculous before. Only 1 page was done out of the total 20plus pages I've assigned. It's totally audacious, to say the least.

It's plain obvious at how much effort was put into the homework assignment throughout the whole 14 days. And it boils me even more to realize that she does not harbour any fear of facing my wrath.


I was hopping mad by now. Nice as I may be most of the time; but it definitely doesn't mean that I'm an easy pushover.
My first instinct was to raise my voice to express my anger. But I did not want to shout - shouting never help anything in any way; but only exacerbates matters.
Just like how gentleness and softness do not equate to a lack of assertiveness, volume does not necessarily mean authority.

Sometimes, the soft way is the hard way. The effective way.


"Do you realize," I seethed inwardly, "that only 1 PAGE of homework is done out of all the assignments that I've given you? 2 whole weeks, and you have the cheek to give me 1 PAGE of homework?" I made a conscious effort to keep my voice at normal volume; though with an authoritative and clipped element incorporated in it.

"And do you realize," I continued my tirade in the same controlled voice, "that this is not the first time that such an incident has occurred? That you've not fully completed your homework?"

"AND what makes me really angry, is that you did not even ATTEMPT to do your homework assignments. If you had tried, I would have understand. But no, you did NOT EVEN bother to read through anything. Not even the questions. Not even the passages. You did not even bother to TRY. Is this right, you tell me? Is this the right attitude?" I berated.

I'm on a roll now. Nothing is stopping me; unless I allow myself to be stopped. Sometimes, certain things are best to be thrashed out once and for all. "AND our tuition session for last week was canceled. This means that it has been 2 whole weeks since I've given you the homework assignments. 2 weeks; and only 1 miserable page of English assignment - 2 Close Passages? Have you really been so terribly busy for all of the past 14 days?"

"Are you putting in any effort to do your homework at all?" I asked the ultimate, burning question irritably in the same controlled and authoritative tone. "If you are, I can't see it at all."

By now, she was keeping unusually and solemnly quiet. My guts instinct tells me that she's not far from bursting into tears. I've ticked her off a couple of times before, but this is the most severe of all. And this is also the first time she looks like she's breaking apart. And hate though to admit it, this piece of information is having a slightly alarming effect on me.
The last thing I want is to have a crying kid on my hands, knowing all too well that it is yours truly who's the guilty one who induced the flow of tears.

I continued looking at her. She was looking down at her book, and kept blinking her eyes. Part of me caved in, but part of me wanted to continue my tirade and knock some sense into her. To tell her that I mean business here. Serious business.

The creature of wrath was still smoking inside me, refusing to be appeased so easily. I opened my mouth, with the full intention of telling her straight in her face something along the line that "Your elder sister has never given me such problems". That's true. In fact, the latter sometimes even do more than what I had assigned. Such good attitude towards learning and self-improving.

The words were dangerously at the tips of my tongue. But before a single word could escape my mouth, a brief feeling of uneasiness tickled my conscience. "Is this the right way to guide a young child who is only 8-year-old? By demeaning her and comparing her with her siblings? Making her demoralized and feel lousy about herself? Telling her that her elder sister is less 'problematic' than she is? That her sister outperforms her?" I thought silently to myself.

I may not be a parent. Neither am I a trained psychologist. But it definitely doesn't take a rocket scientist or Harvard scholar to figure out that this is not an effective and healthy way to correct a child. Neither is it the only way.

I took a deep breath and sighed heavily to release my frustration. I don't like depriving people of second chances. Feeling a lot calmer now, I raised my right forefinger threateningly, looked her straight and fierce in the eye, and said in a no-nonsense tone, "This is the last chance I'm giving you. If such an occurrence were to happen again, I'll straightaway feedback to your Mom. You hear me?"

She gave a silent little nod.

I gave her another hard look. Sometimes, it's more effective to let the eyes do the talking. After all, the eyes are the windows to the soul. I did not say anything, but maintained the silence between us for a short moment. Sometimes, silence carries more weight and effect than words do.

I took a look at the time. 10 otherwise useful minutes have already been wasted. It's high time to start our lesson proper. Pointing at the offending Comprehension passage, I instructed her to read it aloud like how it is done in Oral Tests so that I can correct her pronunciation and articulation at the same time.

While I was walking home later that night, I found myself reflecting on life. There used to be a season of time when the threat "you do it again, and I'll tell your parents" worked reasonably well on me too. Of course, that was when I was a young innocent little kiddo who does not know better. Conversely, if you use such threats on me nowadays, I'll simply just tell you to shoo off and go fly kite.


Perhaps, this is the awesome beauty of children. Something breathtaking and irreplaceable. The inexplicable, precious little gift of joy from Heaven.