School CNY Dress Up Day

Rockstar

Me: So… Grandpop bought these for you ages ago, which do you want to wear for School CNY Dress Up Day? <Holding up 3 shirts>

Rockstar: When is School CNY Dress Up Day?

Me: In 2 days. Thursday. So which shirt? <Holding each one up in turn>

Rockstar: Is tomorrow Thursday?

Me: No, tom is Wednesday, you have Putonghua with Ms Cindy. So which one, so I can get it ironed?

Rockstar: Ms Cindy coming tomorrow?

Me: <getting impatient> Yes. You need to pick a shirt for the day after tomorrow. To wear to school. For Dress Up Day.

Rockstar: What time is Ms Cindy coming?

Me: You really don’t care what you wear for Dress Up Day, do you?

Rockstar: Nope.

Evil Twin

Lots of other kids at school do care, though. There are hot pink cheongsams with grey fur trim and matching grey tights, brocade jackets with tiny brocade animals attached, tiny mandarin collars everywhere we look. Rockstar grudgingly picked one of the shirts – to wear with his school uniform – after more persuasion. He decides against one of the brocade hats, “Too hard to keep on in school.”

My father bought a bunch of those in various sizes shortly after Rockstar was born, for his first CNY. Approximately 48 hours later, we would cease to speak to each other for the next 2 years.

I hesitate. I had no regrets previously, so I don’t know why I think I’ll regret not sending a text message. “Not sure if you remember buying Rockstar some CNY costumes years ago. But I remembered and just dug them up. They’ll come in very handy at his school CNY dress up day. Will send a pic.”

11 minutes later, I get a reply.

Sometimes I don’t keep a distance out of anger. More to preserve hope that I won’t be disappointed. Disillusioned. Hurt. I don’t think that’s a bad idea. The sweetest idealist can turn into the bitterest cynic. But then the flip side is the fear of regret.

Praying and then a leap of faith help.