the great sick

The result of the test: No lethal bacteria (salmonella etc) in her gut. That is, she is fine.

And she is. Apart from princess tantrums, she is eating normally and poo-ing quite normally.

The turning point came Monday night when, while we were going home in the car and Day and Jo were making a racket, she croaked: Can you all keep quiet?

Just this morning, she made fun of me.

I shit in my pants and, as she stood outside the toilet watching me with my head in my hands, lots of splashing sounds from the toilet bowl, she sang: Mama you need a Pamper.

Um-hmm. I got it from her.

Same pattern. A sudden high fever (39 degrees for me), followed by diarrhea (No vomiting. Yet) about a day later.

Our family has never had stomach issues. I’ve never had stomach issues.

Having to get up four times in the night to poo and pop fever pills is a first for me.

Perhaps I did not manage it well enough, which is why I got it from Lu.

The priority now is to make sure NO ONE else gets it. I have a good mind to stay with my mum until it tides over but that’s not possible.

I am also told there is this tiny thing called dehydration which I have to avoid.

Right now I am going to sleep.


* The sick ones

Lu

She has not smiled in four days.

I know its only four days.

But it almost seems too much to bear.

food diary 6

And what do you know? Lu shits out blood, clot included, along with her stool on Friday night. (yes, I brought her to an expensive paed and yes, her stool is being sent for tests)

Back to food. Traditionally, Saturdays are a big mess meal-wise. We wake up late, have brunch, and the next meal may be dinner. Or a late lunch and then a tiny dinner.

I never cook, because KK does not want to wash the dishes on the weekend. So it’s always eating out.

This Saturday, it’s different. As with any woman with a very sick kid with a truckload of soiled bed sheets and blankets to wash, and who treasures her sanity, what do I do? I run back to mum with Lu in tow.

KK brings Day and Jo for a nice cycling day out at the beach.

BREAKFAST

Day: Honey with oats.
Jo: Nothing.
Lu: Mum’s pork, scallop and dried oyster porridge. (well recipe from Mum, cooked by Gina). Lu eats. She also requests for bottled Chrysanthemum tea. No vomiting today.



Day and Jo share fried chicken and fries with KK at the beach. And ice-cream. That passes for breakfast and lunch.

I think the kids really enjoy eating out with KK because he doesn't think about cost or whether it's healthy. I'm forever calculating...

LUNCH

Lu: Beehoon soup with chicken and cabbage by Gina. Lu had asked for it. But she only takes two spoons.



DINNER

Jo: Beef noodle soup.
Day: Chicken rice.
Lu: She requests for, and gets, a packet of crackers which she eats a fair bit of and a can of coconut drink. She also shares a bit of my beef noodle and successfully keeps it down. She shows a bit of her true form when she screams at Jo for snatching her crackers. And she drinks 100 plus. KK says: She needs to replenish salts.

food diary 5

Something awful happens on Thursday night.

Lu wakes up in the middle of the night with a 40.3 degree fever.

BREAKFAST

Day: Cornflakes with milk.
Jo: Wholemeal bread with jam.
Lu: Tiny spoonfuls of oats with honey.

LUNCH

Jo: Something in school, I cannot recall now.
Day: Chicken porridge cooked in the remainder chicken soup from two nights ago and scallops. He loves this. It looks awful because I didn't put in enough water.



Lu: A spoon of chicken porridge. She throws up the entire lot. She also starts leaking from her bottom end. She is still at 40 degrees.

DINNER

In Lu’s horrible, awful state, where she lies around hot and zombie-like without a sound, a cry, no liquid and no food for the entire day, putting up with the ignominy of having to wear diapers once more, we ask what she wants. We will feed her anything she wants.



She says: French fries. And green tea.

In her lowest moment, she thinks of MacDonalds.



We get it for her. But I manage to convince her to change it to a cup of corn.

Lu: A spoon of corn and one sip of green tea before throwing it all up.
Jo: Chicken McNuggets happy meal (four nuggets and French Fries) with iced milo.
Day: He has dinner at my folks. I’m not sure what he ate.

food diary 4

BREAKFAST

Day: Cornflakes with milk.



Girls: Honey oats for Lulu (above, her favourite), fish biscuits and jam bread. She was inexplicably hungry. Beehoon soup from last night not enough, maybe.
Cornflakes (Honey Stars and Banana Nut Crunch) and milk for Jo.

LUNCH

Girls: Porridge with egg and apple in school.
Day: Chicken rice in school.

TEA

Fried beehoon with egg, mushroom, carrots and French beans, by Gina.



I have an afternoon appointment and whenever this happens, they go back to my folks, where food is fresh, ready and plentiful. It’s Gina’s Restaurant.

DINNER

At my folks, because my appointment ends at 5-ish and there isn’t time to fetch the kids, go back and prepare dinner.

It’s white and brown rice with French Bean omelette, dou miao, pork with peas and onion slices, and the stewed pork with carrots and potatoes from the night before.



The kids also get freshly-squeezed apple juice. And honey dew.

food diary 3

BREAKFAST

Day: Coco Pops with cold milk.
Girls: Cheese on toast.

LUNCH

Day: Spaghetti with tomato sauce in school at recess. Two sausages and jelly at lunch (he has to stay back).
Girls: Rice, chicken, soup, fishballs from school.

TEA

Colourful biscuits. They love these old-time biscuits, the kind you buy from big tins with one clear panel at old provision shops. Fancy gems, Day calls the one on the left.



DINNER



Chicken beehoon soup with fishball, vegetables, mushroom and beancurd.

Again, it looks terrible but this one is a sure-win, sure-finish favourite. Busy days, I only chuck in meat and veg. If I have time to do some marketing (like this week), I chuck in more.

It’s a way of getting them to eat some good stuff. They seldom question what’s in their favourite beehoon soup.

I also supply a small dish of Maggi sauce which Jo liberally spoons up. One spoonful of noodle, one sip of sauce. Same for KK.

They both think the soup is bland, which is true. Even though it's slow-cooked from a whole chicken for about six hours, it's bland. But it’s deliberate. As far as possible, I avoid salt and sauces. I don’t even like oyster sauce and bottled chicken stock which I seldom use. Tastiness is compromised for health.

Everytime I cook I think: Should I dunk in the seasonings to make it tasty so they will eat more? Or keep it bland and super-simple and (I may be wrong here) healthier, the drawback being that they might push away their food?

food diary 2

BREAKFAST

Day: Koko Crunch cornflakes with cold Meiji milk.



Girls: Pandan bread bun and one char siew bao each. Lu also drinks a cup of Gain IQ warm milk. She made me buy it from the supermarket after seeing it on the shelf. Only she drinks it. No one else can stand the smell and taste of the synthetic stuff. (Maybe she can sense she is lacking something... haha)



LUNCH

Girls: In school, they get rice with soup and chicken, watermelon and Yakult. I’m always thankful when the school settles their meals. When it comes to food I’m quite happy to outsource.
Day: He eats a pandan bun at recess. And a full portion of Nasi Lemak with fried chicken wing after school at the coffeeshop nearby.

TEA

This is the time they are at their hungriest. The litany of food requests are non-stop and I do a lot of waitressing.



Chin-chow in honey with ice for everyone, two slices of Coon’s cheese for Lu, crackers and biscuits, whatever leftovers are to be found in the fridge.

I might nap at this time (but not kids) so they unilaterally raid the cupboards and fridge. Which is why I try not to buy nonsense because THEY WILL FIND IT.

DINNER

It’s always a feast at mum’s. Gina is very free and dinner is her crowning achievement for the day.

A super-achiever I just interviewed said: Let someone specialize in something and do it every day and he or she will get good at it. Those who run here run there (sounds familiar) will never get anywhere.

Gina is great.

She does pork stewed with potatoes and carrots, steamed fish, kailan in oyster sauce...



Peas with mince pork (Lu’s favourite).



And (not pictured) grilled eggplant AND soup.

We only get our fish at my folks. I still can't do fish. (at least, every fish I do, they don't eat. Including cod and salmon)

KK loves fried fish, but the thought of frying a fish still scares me. And ugh. Bones. Hate fish bones.

Do the kids eat everything?
Almost. They don’t go for the eggplant or the soup.

We finish off with honeydew and Marks and Spencers chocolate chip cookies (my mum’s guilty pleasure).

The fridge at my folks is always well-stocked. Unlike mine.

When I eat at my folks, I don’t go looking for food at 10pm.

food day 1

Since I have food on my mind, I’m going to start a 7-day food diary.

But unlike Sydney days when sentimentality was the driver, kids eating well, I think, is the motivator for this one.

I’ll document down to minute detail what it is that the kids put into their mouths on a daily basis, and some of the things I think about. It'll be boring but this is for me.

And it will be typical. No special effort will be made just because I’m blogging about it.

This week, however, is what I would consider a good, fairly typical week. Yes I have a lot of work due, but I do not have many external meetings, unlike last week when I was running between one or two a day.

Those will also be an opportunity for those with better house management skills / are better cooks / have someone at home who cooks to count their blessings! (Trust me, I will look bad).

So. Monday.

BREAKFAST

Cornflakes with cold Meiji milk for all. Cornflakes: Banana Nut Crunch.

LUNCH

Jo and Lu: Beehoon with carrots and eggs, milk and watermelon in school. I think there’s some meat involved but the girls couldn’t say what.

Day: He skips recess, which happens often. After I pick him up, we share garlic prawn pasta and beef sheperd’s pie at a café so he eats about half of both.

TEA

Packets of Mamee each and a soft drink (it’s a library ritual)

DINNER

100 percent organic macaroni (I doubt if organic makes any difference but I was conscientious that day in the supermarket), tossed in stewed tomato with minced chicken, onions, mushrooms, garlic, rosemary and thyme. It doesn’t look good but I like it.



The sauce is sour-salty because it's stewed from Malaysian tomatoes, the kind you find in the wet market (I hate tinned tomato sauces with a passion. But if I bought a tin perhaps the kids would prefer their dinner..)

Also, I've never figured how to properly fry mince meat such that it crumbles nicely. I end up chopping away with my ladle, manually breaking up the meat but it always ends up in biggish chunks.

Rosemary and thyme which actually look like weeds (ie. not from a shaker) are newcomers to my kitchen. I only have them because Day wanted to try out a potato wedges recipe the other day which involved the herbs and I just tossed them in the sauce because I don’t know how else to use them up.



Day picks out all the rosemary and arranges them next to his bowl, but laps up the pasta.
Jo removes the tomato chunks and finishes her portion.
Lu only wants plain macaroni because she hates tomato. I manage to persuade her to finish it by putting only chicken mince in her bowl.


* Jo... and then Lu's bowl

They finish dinner off with apple slices.

fruit meals

Update from their horrified dietitian uncle: Low protein. No B-complex vitamins. No good fats for the brain. No oil for cooking means your kids lose out on all the fat soluble Vitamins. Vitamin A, D, E and K. (mainly A and E) How to put on weight? Poor boy.

The kids have fruits for meals!

Why? Because I’m busy again!

Work craziness once again tips my life over and pours it all out in a sludgy mess of unwashed clothes, dusty tables and tornado packing (throw here, throw there)

(Why am I still blogging? Because it’s a means to oil my writing wheels to gear up for the next article on the production line.)

Many times these few weeks, they come to me at 4pm whining that they are hungry and then I recall: Oh my God they haven’t had lunch.

I scramble to take out the bread, the biscuits, the cornflakes, the frozen peas and corn and my favourite – the Fruits.


* This is dinner, along with cornflakes

Fruits don’t need cooking. It's instantaneous. They eat up their fruits. And there is minimal clean-up with no soap involved (because there’s no oil) so it’s kinder on my eczema-ed hands. And it’s kind of healthy (though expensive).

I am starting to think that my son is super-skinny because I’m not feeding him right.

Then suddenly I realize with even more horror: They haven’t had lunch… wait. I haven’t had breakfast!

On a related point, I was thinking about food and how I’m going about it all wrong.

I want them to eat healthy, but by depriving them of what I deem as unhealthy food, and not having the energy or the commitment to provide those healthy alternatives, they’re STARVING. (Like I would rather feed them fruits and nothing else than bring them to Macs nearby)

lantern time

This is the year I realize the kids are not really into lanterns.

That is, they do it for us, not for themselves.

The preceding build-up of excitement – of looking for rabbits in the moon, biting into juicy pomelo and sweet lotus paste, walking on a dark street with nothing but warm bobbing lantern light – is sadly all mine. (KK is as non-plussed as the kids)

Kiddos are not very keen, on all three occasions they get to imbibe in the Mooncake Festival.

What did I expect? That they would ooh and ah at something as provincial as the moon? They’ve grown up.

Most fun was probably the girls’ school lantern party at the East Coast Park, where a global hodge-podge of parents each brought a dish to the potluck and the barbeque pits were laden with a buffet of exotica, from Shanghai dumplings to sushi to Al Forno pizza.


* Lanterns all strung up for picking by kids

Factors for success: Friends, a great breeze which alleviated the stifling heat and humidity, and the greatest playground of all, the beach. Which was, to be frank, quite awful.



Next was our own little house party at my folks, where tradition was observed.



Then was Day’s school party, where a few hundred parents and kids descended on the school and we were typically overwhelmed, beating a hasty retreat before the mass walk.

I also make a strange observation: Every year, it’s Jo’s lantern which stays lit the longest. This year they all carried the same lanterns. I think she’s got the steadiest gait and hands.

And perhaps an insane sense of competition which makes her will her limbs into ensuring that her lantern stays lit longer than anyone else’s.

weird blog moment

I was just saying the other day that I think blogs are falling out of favour. It’s Facebook (and maybe newer platforms which I am not yet aware of) which capture the eyeballs.

Recently, I went to conduct an interview.

I said hi to the young lady and was taking out my notepad when she said: Hey I read your blog. I read all about David, Jody and Lulu. Your voice is a lot deeper than I expected!

I froze.

When I do an interview, there is a certain comfortable relationship: Me, a friendly harmless anonymous writer, trying to dig out all sorts of private details from the person who is under the spotlight.

It’s a very strange feeling when your interviewee knows a whole lot more about you than you know of her! Very, very strange!

I asked her: Er, how did you come to this blog?

She said: I can’t remember. Through friends? I don’t really know.

Did she feel like she was talking to someone she knew when I asked her the questions? I don’t know.

But I sure got great answers!

bye, ixus

Last photo my trusty little Canon Ixus took before the viewing screen completely died. All I can see are illuminated cracks when I turn it on.

I can try taking pictures without actually seeing anything (camera has no viewfinder), like this agak-agak shot of potato wedges:



But it's awfully out of focus.

It's been 3 1/2 good years. For a gadget which was thrown around a lot, it lasted pretty long.

Now it's time to get a new camera.

But which one?

princess is back

She’s switched again.

One day as I am frowning furiously away at Jo, I suddenly realize that her sweet days number less and less.

While it lasted, I appreciated and savoured every peaceful day.

The wonderful age of four has come and gone. At 5 ½, she is entering awkward phase two (as with Day).

Let’s see now. Her drama always makes life more interesting.

* At some point every day, she shrieks like an outraged monkey. No words, just shrieking.

* At some point every day, she pronounces: I hate so-and-so. Could be me, could be KK, could be Lu, could be Day.

* Anecdote 1: Her wad of “ching gum” (chewing gum) drops out of her mouth. She turns on me, stamps her little foot, furious: You see! You made me talk and open my mouth and my chewing gum dropped out!

* Anecdote 2: She refuses to hold a lantern because it’s the wrong colour. KK holds it for her. After a while she shrieks. KK returns lantern to her. She grabs it with a savage frown. She whines: My candle is going to go out because papa held it for so long. KK says he could go back to get a new candle. She whines: But then I’ll have to wait so long for you to come back.



It all sounds very provincial. But there and then, we – including furious Day who represents me in an uncensored form ie he cannot grit his teeth and tolerate - all want to put our hands around her neck.

This round, however, unlike her twos, there is a difference. There is a lot of eye-rolling and petulant teenage-y pronouncements like: I don’t care or FINE.

There is also her incessant, mind-numbing, pointed, repeated questioning which I numbly proclaim to be good (when relevant) but which drills holes into my brain.

One of her favourite questions: What did you say just now? (I forgot) But, what did you SAY just now? (I forgot, Jo). TSK, BUT WHAT DID YOU SAY??!


* Her mock angry face

sept 11

Just because there is an outpouring of sentiment, here’s what I was doing on Sept 11, 10 years ago.

I was in Mongolia (outer), living in a cold forest where my job was to ride on a white pony called Borathleg every day, get to out-of-the-way places where I could dismount, lay a piece of string on the forest floor, and count animal droppings.



It was part of an environmental initiative with volunteer mission group Operation Raleigh, to track the animal species in the forest.

In a place where there was no communication and where my only link with the outside world was monthly snail mail dispatches, the rest of the world was completely filtered out.

Upon my return to Singapore a week later, KK, the first time I looked upon his face in three months, looked at me very seriously and said: Something terrible’s happened.

And that was how I learnt about September 11, a good five days after the event.

I must have been one of the last people in the world to know.

jo's boys

At five, Jo likes her boys.

Already fully aware of the difference between boys and girls, Jo gravitates to boys.

Not just any sort of boy. She likes boys with charisma who can make her laugh. And once she likes, she is intense and consistent in her adoration.

At school, her best friend has always been, and remains, Sam.


* Jo with Sam (in blue) and Jia-en, she calls them her boy friends. As in, friends who are boys.

They’re partners. They share the same bag and shoe cubbyhole, and they hold hands when they’re told to line up.

Sam is the sort of adorable tyke who’d flip up his eyelids and shriek “Ali Baba Chicken Man!” to raucous laughter.

Outside of school, the boy most on her mind is eight-year-old Josh.



Jo and Josh. Gosh.

A neighbor and playground playmate, my daughter would happily sit on the back rack of Josh’s bicycle, arms around his waist, and disappear off with him into the sunset with nary a backward glance.

Which is what actually happens, when Josh ferries Jo back home from the playground. She pleads, “Mummy can I please sit on Josh’s bike, please, please?”

This remarkable boy usually in singlet and shorts sings Justin Bieber, does a mean Bruce Lee impression, is street-smart to a fault and is completely left alone by his parents.

He cycles everywhere on his own, decides where he wants to go, doesn’t care much about mealtimes and when I stop him at my door to ask – But do your parents know you are coming to my house? – he waves me off with “never mind”.

He, brash and bold at eight, is accountable only to himself and has absolutely no fear of adults. He’d question me: Eh, how come you all not at home on Saturdays?

But he’s also the sort who’d know how to find his way back home, if he were lost, with no money and no phone without a tear.

KK is most disapproving.

Me, I like Josh. He has many qualities which I think local kids need (he’s not local).

But when Jo goes on and on – “Can we go to the playground to find Josh? Why is Josh not here? How come I don’t see Josh? Can I sit on Josh’s bike when he comes later? – I wish he’s far, far away!

hols

When it rains, it pours.

The one-week September holidays are when all the work I have been waiting and pitching for, in a very free period in late August, pours down in a deluge.

So I leave Day mostly to his own devices.

His favourite thing to do is to go out of the house on his own, wallet in hand, to buy things.

But the one thing he really wanted was to go to the Science Centre. That would be his holiday highlight.

The Science Centre is something else.



It fits right up there with the library and museum as nice air-conditioned places for us to spend time and not money.

The negative is that there is only one crazy-crowded MacDonalds there which, everytime I go, requires me to stand 30 minutes in the queue.

Day was gunning for the exhibit on viruses. He’s still mad-crazy about the human body.

We went with PK and her brood. When I announce to the kids in the car that we’re meeting auntie PK, Kaining and Kaiqin, the girls hooray while Day slumps: What? All the girls again?

He hates being the only male in a group of seven.

That outing, however, breaks a family record for Longest Time Spent At One Place. I think we were there about seven hours and I don’t think we covered half the centre.

For the hols, teenagers set up lots of activity stations. Here, kids are making paper butterflies with weighted wings (washers stuck on with scotch tape) which can perch beautifully on a corner.



Most fun? The learning-about-water area, essentially a water playground.


* Amazonian Kaining, who is younger than Jo but taller than Day


* PK and Kaiqin, who takes a while to warm up to the water

tired at the wheel

I never dreamt the day would come when I would say: I nearly fell asleep at the wheel.

But it’s here!

Driving, once so stressful, has become soothing, automatic, comfortable.

I - crazy multi-tasking woman with the strange female ability to keep one eye on the road and the other eye on a whole load of crap - can theoretically do a lot of things while driving.

But I made myself swear that, regardless of how many things I need to do, I would not. While driving, would not make that call on the mobile (unless I have a hands-free), would not SMS, would not check my bag contents, would not read (unless it’s a street directory in which case I check only at red traffic lights).

And oh, heavens, would not sleep.

But it has – heavens!! – become a familiar sensation.

I know myself. It typically happens around 1-ish or 2 afternoon when there’s a drop in my energy level (unless I have that cup of teh tarik in the morning), or after a particularly long and tiring day.

Worse, driving on the expressway is a very effective lullaby.

I grip the steering wheel with a death grip. I force open my eyes and refuse to blink. I play the radio, 98.7, at a crazy-loud volume. I talk to myself. I sing. I shout. I think of a mangled bloody wreck. I think of KK and the kids. I think, what if I crash into and kill someone else’s mummy. Shudder.

It works.

I am ready, always, to get off the roads and stop somewhere to kill the engine and snooze. I haven’t had to do that yet. And I wonder if it would work because I suspect, horrors, that it’s the motion of the car which tips tiredness into deadly fatigue.

Tuesday was one such day.

5pm, in the car, driving on the AYE, three kids behind, we (no KK or he would have driven) had had a full day at the Science Centre since 10am in the morning.

Lu fell asleep the instant her head hit the car seat.

I wanted to do the same. But I had to drive across the length of Singapore. God.

I think Day and Jo thought I was mad, what with the music and un-ending gibberish coming out of my mouth.

snapshot

I recently covered a talk by one of those inspirational speaker types.

It got me thinking about where I want to go.

Not about motherhood, which remains first priority.

About my job.

I became a freelancer because of the kids. And I think I have pretty much committed myself to the lifestyle of a stay-home mum who writes on the side.

But where do I go from here?

I am in the perfect place to make my work meaningful. Without bosses to answer to, I can pretty much do anything I want.

As it turns out, over the years, I have realized there has only been one unfortunate motivating factor: Money.

I want to earn money. Not for myself, for the kids.

And I know what I am.

I’m good enough for editorial jobs from the Government and local companies.

I’m not good enough for big corporate MNC sell-your-soul type jobs which is where all the money is and which pay, oh, double or much, much more for the same amount of work.

I am realizing that puffery and advertising copy-writing may not be something I can pretend to do. I am just not inspired and without inspiration, words do not flow.

Now, instead of hitting my head against a stone wall, as the speaker would say, I should change my strategy to reach my goal of making money.

Completely out of the box, perhaps I should be a property agent. Or a trader. Or dabble in stocks and shares.

But then… maybe I should re-think the entire goal. Then the response would be: That's a cop-out!

por por's 65

“It’s your MOTHER’S birthday,” said Lu the other day.

“Where’s your present? Where are the balloons?”

I stifle a slightly ridiculous feeling of guilt. “I-I-I’m treating por-por to dinner, see? That’s my present, see. The DINNER.”



Mum pays for her own cake from Fruit Paradise, a cake shop in Vivocity which we have been eyeing for over a year but never ate from until now. Mum had to pay because Teng was too slow to take out his wallet - so he says.





And so, my mother, who goes the gym every day after or before work, plays tennis and does tai-chi, hits her mid-60s.



I did suggest a party. But mum quailed at the prospect of a gathering held in her honour.

(Girls, I will be happy if you just spend some time with me when I’m 65. No need present)

gym-my stuff

Bunk bed's good for many purposes. Lu can't do it, yet.



The logical next-step: A head-stand against the wall.



If I looked stressed here, I am. My heart rate went up. It's kinda good exercise. KK admonishes: You're twisting her arms. (pix by Lu)



Flying Jo.



Small fitness corners near HDB flats for senior citizens. Kids love it.

teacher's day

Teacher's Day, I learn that one advantage of sending Day to this particular primary school is that it never lacks for funds.

What this means is that on Teacher's Day, its teachers are treated to a wedding-quality dinner at The Four Seasons Hotel complete with lucky draw (top prize a $500 shopping voucher) and a professional MC who manages to turn what could potentially be a very stiff event into a whole load of fun. You know, Bingo, floor games, Mr and Mrs contest.



Unbelievably, parent volunteers - like me - are invited too.

Of course I go. I would never turn down food.

The parent next to me mumbles in all confidence: With all that money, they could do so much more with the school, hire better teachers, be like that school next door which is top-class.

I bite my lip.

On Teacher's Day or on any other day, I happen to like Day's teachers a lot.

The kids and I hurriedly prepare small gift baggies the day before. Hand-written cards and, er-hmmm, lozenges.

Jo is long-winded to the max, writing long, long messages on her cards about how this teacher scares her but actually she loves her, so on and so forth.

Day writes equally long messages but he loses steam after card #3.

They, we, have been incredibly fortunate, to date. To be taught by teachers who seem to truly love what they do.