@ 5-something am

So I’ve been up since 4+. Next to me, Rockstar has been crawling about vigorously and gabbling in his sleep, the result of a busy previous day:

10am:  Leisurely walk to Wisekids Playroom at Cyberport, pointing out butterflies, bees, birds, fire hydrants, ants and dog poop along the way

10.30am – 12noon:  Wisekids Playroom session (the place has never ceased to amaze me since I quit my job for good about 6 weeks ago and we’ve been coming every day barring weekends and the 3 trips we made to Singapore to visit friends and Sentosa. The kids have several elaborate play areas, redecorated every month, and in the last 15 mins they start an optional singing session.  But what really impresses me is the ingenuity of the 30-second “goodye song” everyone is encouraged to join in on, signifying the end of the session as a means of clearing us all out of there – every semi-regular toddler visitor has a Pavlovian reaction to this song and in my dozen or so visits I have never seen a single refusal to leave. They all know, or perhaps pick up from the others, that tantrums are futile, eviction inevitable – their play session is over)

11.50am:  Giant tantrum.  I’m often not quite sure how it starts because Rockstar is extremely sensitive to body language and tone of voice, and takes himself very seriously – he hates mistakes.  He hates when the pretend-sushi isn’t stacked just so.  He hates when our trained border collie doesn’t take instructions from him.  I swing daily between “that’s my boy” and “he gets it from his father”.

Sushi Chef before the storm hits– note the Japanese-hairdo hats in the background

Like Avalanche of Rage Syndrome in Cocker Spaniels, pretend-Sushi goes flying and I see it all in slow motion – even as I tell him we will leave immediately if he yells, the most blood curdling holler cuts thru the loud music and as I scoop up my savage little beast and head for the exit I’m aware of worried looks from staff and fellow parents we’ve befriended (this is Rockstar’s first meltdown at WP) – they always say they’ve heard it all, and then they meet “that Rockstar”.  I’m aware as we exit the play area that Rockstar has stopped screaming. Then he politely says to me with his best manners “Starbucks please”.

“Why didn’t you just say you wanted to leave early?”  Starbucks is our daily post-playroom ritual and Rockstar loves playing Grown-up with Real Grown-up drink (Starbucks hot chocolate in a Starbucks cup – it must be a Starbucks cup) sometimes more than playroom.  He’s asked to leave early before.

11.52am:  Rockstar politely says goodbye to all the playroom staff (who are avoiding my eye), puts on his Pumas carefully, and without a word maneuvers like a well-mannered robot down an escalator, out the general Wisekids exit, and up two more double-story escalators with me trailing behind wondering which side of the family has Cocker Spaniel.

11.55am:  As I continue to watch him for traces of tantrum, Rockstar, perfectly polite, asks for his usual hot chocolate from me as well as the Starbucks staff (who all know him), settles in the armchair with a theatrical “mmmm I love Stah-buks” followed by a long swig, then with a bland chocolate-mustached smile, raises his paper cup to mine and says “cheers”.  And he’s actually waiting for me to “clink” paper cups with him. Stah-buks endorsement.

2.30pm:  Lunch (fried noodles with cabbage and egg, some crackers)

1.30pm:  Nap

4pm:  Putonghua play session (ok, we advertised online for school kids with perfect spoken English and Putonghua to come hang out with Rockstar at home during the first of the Swine Flu scares, but at some point one of the respondents morphed into an actual playschool teacher.)

6pm:  Snack

6.30pm:  Demands to join JD (our Border Collie)’s walk and kicks her ball for her in the park

7.10pm:  Gets obsessed with another Border Collie who looks like JD

7.30pm:   Dinner

8.30pm:   Bath

9.30pm:   Snack

10.00pm:  Re-arranges my costume jewelry organizer (including all the little drawers).  This should actually be story time.

11.30pm:  Parent intervention because he’s not falling asleep

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About Aileen

I blog about living and raising my son in Hong Kong - where toddlers have entrance interviews, parents keep test score spreadsheets, private school debentures can trade for more than half a million USD. Raising Rockstar's the most important thing I'll ever do. We show our true colors by the choices we make in bringing up our children. My blog is a message to my toddler son, about what the world and his parents are like today - for when he becomes a teenager and knows everything.
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