The school run

La Serpiente is now reliably waking up half an hour before she should, which interferes with my precious sleep, but gives us a bit more chance to bleary-eyedly fill her with food and then take her to school. As it’s a Wednesday today, it’s my turn to do that, and usually our remarkably copacetic daughter decides to have a meltdown on me and refuse to walk to the bus stop, and thus we end up missing the bus by a minute and then having to sit and sweat for twenty minutes waiting for the next one.

Today, we made it to the bus stop on time, which meant we got to Tiong Bahru twenty minutes early, which meant I took her to the French bakery for a croissant and a pit stop (although she refused to go to the toilet). Her method of earing croissants leaves a little to be desired: she either gnaws at the crust and leaves lots of tiny bite marks, or picks bits off the crust like a child extracting scabs. Lovely, whichever way you cut it. I let this horror show continue for ten minutes, then walked her to school.

With a croissant in her (or at least the surface of one) she was much more compliant, rather than standing there arms outstretched desperately howling for me to hold her. (She’s now learned the standard toddler move to demand a cuddle, then fold up her legs so that by default, you pick her up off the ground. Or do your back in. Thanks, Tissy!) But she had a new and strange demand.

“Hold me upside down, Daddy” she asked, again and again. I put her off for a while, explaining she had to give her croissant adequate time to be digested, lest she spew it up/down/anyway you like it, baby. But even so, I had to relent eventually, wondering why an act that previously persuaded her to stop doing what she was doing has now become a special treat. I get the feeling she’s messing with me, this whole family of mine is an elaborate prank. The swines. Guess they get that from their mother, or something.

Tonight, I spent almost three hours working on resource allocation when I should have been staring my wife in the eye and whispering sweet nothings. Come on, the weekend…

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