Moved

Something new

Somebody got an early birthday present (which is actually not anytime soon - March). 

Mirzan's "mama" and "papa" appeared at the door with a package in hand.

Inline skates! 

This boy got his pair before I got mine pfft. 

But I have to say, he's a fast-learner. It was like baby taking his first steps again.

He could move on his own in less than half-hour. Way to go baby!

He's such an active boy I guess it's good to have something new and challenging for him to pick up on and channel all that energy towards. He loves it so much I think he'll wear it to sleep.

Wee new skates!

Putting it on.

"Mama" helping him gain balance.

Tired, but happy :)

Britain is outraged

(source: mirror.co.uk)

This little blue-eyed cutie known as "Baby P", was only 17-months-old when he died. And he lived a (very short) life that was probably a thousand times rougher than any of ours. To cut long story short, his Mummy didn't give him the love every toddler should receive.

But if someone's hungry for a long story, here it is (chipped off The New Paper):

    "The toddler had been visited 60 times by social workers. A doctor examined him, but missed the fact that the child had a broken back and eight fractured ribs. His mother managed to explain away his constant bruises time and time again, sometimes even smearing the wounds with chocolate to hide them."                                                               

    "Last week, his mother, her boyfriend, and their tenant were found guilty of causing his death. The Times reported that Baby P had been in the sole care of his mother, who lives in North London, since she split from his father when the child was 3 months old, after she had affairs with two men."

    "Her 32-year-old live-in boyfriend treated him even more brutally, using him 'like a punching bag' and treating him worse than the family pet..."      

    "Investigators said that after the boyfriend moved in, not one item of the boy's clothing was left unstained with blood. While the mother chatted with friends online, her boyfriend would beat the boy, swinging him around by the neck or legs and pinching him.

      He also forced Baby P to obey commands like a dog. A snap of the fingers meant the boy would have to sit with his head bent between his legs. Another snap 20 minutes later would be the signal that he could sit upright again. 

       Other instances of abuse included placing the boy on a stool and spinning it around until he fell off. As Baby P grew too old for milk and jars of baby food, he was forced to scavenge bits of broken biscuits from older children and was even seen eating dirt in the garden."

It seemed social workers never noticed his injuries. A doctor noticed marks on the boy. The mother said he "bruised easily". The same doctor later referred Baby P to hospital for a head injury. Mother said he was a "head-banger".

The boyfriend was said to enjoy torturing animals and would skin frogs alive before breaking their legs (this dude's a serious nutcase). 

3 Aug, Baby P was found stiff and blue in his blood-spattered cot. The Guardian reported even as the ambulance crew tried to rush him to hospital, the mother demanded they wait while she got her ciggies. This mum's a real f------ b----! 

Baby P was pronounced dead on arrival. He suffered more than 50 injuries at the hands of his mother. 

                                                                                             

(source: mirror.co.uk)

"Physical injuries included eight broken ribs, a broken back and the missing top of a finger, while the emotional damage was almost incalculable. Despite it all, Baby P was said to have still attempted a smile." - Times Online

R.I.P. little baby.

Baby likes to Move It

Mirzan dancing to Madagascar's theme song, with a bit of big brother talking.

A Limo spotted

I forgot the name of this road, somewhere after Chinatown. I gawked when it drove in and stopped opposite from where we were. It's a frigging limo in SG!!! And this time a real one, not the white Mercedes cab that they call "limo".

Memories of the red bricks

(source: timesofmylife.wordpress.com)

It used to be known as the Red Brick Library to many who visited it. It was the Motherhouse of Books, only cos it was the National Library since the 60s. I used to go there with my family. It was located next to the National Museum. It was always such a thrill going there. Recently, it was demolished. The kopitiam, that I went to after visiting the library just a short walk away at the corner of the road too was taken away to build the Fort Canning Tunnel.

The road that used to be in front of the library is now replaced by grass, pavements, and an SMU building. And in place of the library is now an escalator. As funny as it sounds, but I have proof. The escalator leads up to Fort Canning Hill. I kind of miss going up that slope to the porch of the library.

(what remains of it today, escalator in place of library. on the left, is entrance to Fort Canning Tunnel.)

(a presence marked, and National Museum)

(Escalator on grass)

(up ahead, SMU)

(kopitiam was next to white building)

More history of our National Library (timesofmylife.wordpress.com).

Live forever

When you were younger, you probably know you can't touch a lot of the things in the house or else you'd get a good smack or scolding from the parents. But when you're older, you realise you can touch things in the house (whether it belongs to parents or not) without really having to ask.

So my itchy hands began rummaging through my parents drawers. And I began discovering a lot of cards, letters, love letters. Some were funny, some were sad. I can't believe I got my mum a Loony Tunes card for her last birthday. I realised she laminated some family photos with messages written on the back for us. And I got to see the things dad wrote to her.

One thing I've learned is if we can and want to retain a certain memory, it helps if we take a photo or document it somewhere with the date, venue, and what we remember most about it. Cos if we grow real old, our brain's not gonna be fresh forever. But perhaps seeing the picture or reading smth about it might trigger the memory. 

But say if we don't live long enough, at least we've left a part of us for whoever's still alive in the family to see. 

I have to be honest, I'm so afraid to die. I had another nightmare of dying. But this time everyone's going to die. There was a collective understanding that soon everyone would pass at the same time. We didn't know the exact time and day but we knew it was soon. I hugged everyone close to me and said my last words. I took all of mum's things, held it tight and closed my eyes, hoping sleeping would make the 'transition' into wherever life after death brings us, easier. 

Then Mirzan jolted me awake "Kakak wake up, wake up". I've never felt better about being alive.