Computer Talk

Computer games have certainly influenced the vocabulary of the youth.

When my four year old Gabi wants me or his mommy to stop talking --- especially when we are admonishing him for a naughty deed -- he holds up his hand and says "Pause first, Papa, pause."

When he is too tired or just plain lazy to pack away his toys, his favorite excuse is "Wait, Papa, I'm still loading."

And last night when he was about to sleep, he snuggled close to me and whispered "Game over, Papa. I will shut down."

BFF!

March 2010

They were born a little more than seven months apart, Beeto in September 2004 and Gabi in May 2005. And though they are opposite in character, the cousins are undoubtedly best friends.

Gabi is loud and gregarious. Beeto is quiet and circumspect. Yet they love each other's company and always seek each other out.

They see each other at least once a week. During family dinner in granny's house. They regularly have play dates. They swim in Woodside when Beeto comes over. And they play video games when Gabi goes over to Beeto's house.

They talk on the phone too. You should hear their conversations. Like two small adults talking about the pros and cons of the newest video game or disagreeing between themselves on who has the better toys.

Oh yes they argue. And fight. They've even come to blows a couple of times. But like true best friends, they always make up. And pledge that they are each other's best friend. Until the next fight, that is. Which could be as soon as ten minutes later.

May 2007

October 2007

September 2008

July 2009

Sunday in the Park with Gabi and Bela

Off the cuff we went on a picnic, Gabi, Bela and I . For once I was spontaneous. No planning was involved. I decided to go and in ten minutes we were on our way.

I grabbed our banig and a few toys for the kids, filled two thermos with water and bundled the kids in the back seat with Manang Tim. (Impromptu though my decision was, I was still not crazy enough to take both Gabi and Bela by myself in the car.)

To UP we went. In front of Abelardo Hall, to join other picnickers who were obviously more prepared. They had food baskets and stools and bikes and lots of toys. All we had was a toy ball and a small container of Bela's cereals.Yes, we went on a picnic without food.

Yet, what we had was more than enough. We had fun! Lots of fun!

Bela loved the grass. And the leaves. All she did was touch them, and play with and on them.

 

Gabi in turn loved the new setting for his role playing games. He had new bridges to cross. New  obstacles to overcome. And bigger dragons and aliens to slay.

And when I asked them what their favorite part of the picnic was they both replied unanimously, "the ice cream!"

It was truly an enjoyable excursion. Something we'll definitely do again soon. But next time we'll bring a bike, sandwiches and chips, a book or two for me...

Hmm, then again maybe not. Planning too much might just spoil it. We'll just wing it again.

Hand Made Gifts

One family tradition I'd like to continue in my young family is the practice of making our own gifts.

My parents always encouraged us to make our own gifts. Gifts we create ourselves, they always stressed, would certainly be appreciated more. It was their way of not only shielding us from the over commercialization of Christmas but more so of encouraging us to be be creative and imaginative.

And so for many years, from when we were toddlers up to our teen years, the week before Christmas was spent secretly rehearsing and writing and drawing and painting, each in his own corner, creating that special gift for Baby Jesus and our parents.

At times it was a poem. Or an essay. Or a letter to Baby Jesus.

At times it would be drawings. In pencil and in charcoal. Or paintings in water color, pastel and even oil.

At times it would be a performance. A song. A dance. Once, even a one act play.

1972: With siblings Wawel (left) and An (right), we sing Christmas carols to the Baby Jesus

It was a lot of hard work. But also a lot of fun. And we all looked forward to sharing our gifts during Noche Buena.

Thanks to his teachers in Little Sandbox, my four year old Gabi has started to put this tradition in practice. His gifts to Patty and me this year were all made with his own hands. All created in school over a two week period. All made with love.

2010 Calendar

Key and Pen Holder

Hand Print Weight

The Lessons We Teach And The Lessons We Learn

We try to teach Gabi the value of money. We remind him when he asks for toys that he cannot always get what he wants, that money doesn't grow on trees and that he should try to save the money he receives as gifts.

One day when we were in a mall to run some errands, Gabi noticed the big toy store and started to bug Patty and me about buying him a Bakugan. He kept nagging and nagging and nagging. And after a few minutes, to Patty's obvious disapproval, I gave in.

But as if to make up for my weakness, I told Gabi that he only had a 300 pesos budget.

"Choose carefully, son, because that's all we can afford," was my wise advice.

So off he ran to the Bakugan section. One by one he examined the choices. And for each and every package that he looked at, he made sure to ask the attendant, "excuse me, how much is this?"

When he was told that it was more than 300 pesos, which was the case for most of his choices, he would quickly reply, "No, I can't get that. My papa doesn't have enough money."

He asked that all that he could afford be put on the floor so that he could choose properly. And he went through each one, again and again. But his eyes were always on the "forbidden" ones left on the shelves, the ones papa could not afford.

 "Are you sure those are more than 300 pesos?" he kept asking the attendant. "Because those are the ones I like. Hmmm, but papa only has 300 pesos."

In the end, mainly to save face, I sheepishly whispered to Gabi that he could pick one from the more expensive packages.

"But Papa," he said out loud. "You have more than 300 pesos?"

In the end, Gabi got his Bakugan. I was embarrassed no end. And Patty could not stop herself from laughing the whole time.

Sibling Revelry

Brothers and sisters are as close as hands and feet.

This Vietnamese proverb rings so true for Gabi and Bela.

Three years older, Gabi has always been a loving and protective brother to Bela. He always wants to read her his books. He always wants to be the one to teach her how to walk. He always wants to be at her side.

Sure, there are times Gabi becomes too rough with Bela.There are times naughty Gabi plays practical jokes on her. There are times he doesn't share with Bela and makes her cry.

It's a good thing Bela can dish it too. She's no push over. She too can play rough. And she can also end up making Kuya cry.

But through it all, the highs and the lows, the laughter and the laments, the two remain the best of friends.

And this is what I cherish the most: the noise, the play, the giggles, the cry. The siblings' revelry is truly sweet music.

Lunchtime Banter

"So what's your favorite pizza, Gabi," I asked my son as we both munched on leftover slices.

"Hmm ... I like pepperoni pizza, Papa," he replied. "But without the pepperoni."

"Me too," I answered. "I like pepperoni pizza. But without the pizza."

 And so together we finished all the leftover pizza.

Gabi Learns to Share

We brought Gabi with us last night to help distribute the cooked food packs Patty had prepared for typhoon victims. It was a spur of the moment decision. We thought it would help make Gabi understand the gravity of the calamity. We also hoped that the experience would make him value the importance of sharing. And thus make him stop grabbing Bela's toys from her and start sharing his toys with her.

So off to Marikina we went. To the Malanday Elementary School which was now an evacuation center for more than 300 families. Last week there were more than 1,000 families there. But most of them were already sent home. Those who remained had no more houses to go home to.

Gabi patiently gave out the food packs in each of over forty classrooms in the school. And he chose to give his packs to the kids. Many his age. Many more much younger.

Gabi went about his task enthusiastically. It was obvious that he felt good about what he was doing. And that he was having fun.

After an hour and a half, after all 300 or so food packs had been given away, I pulled Gabi aside and asked: "So, Gabi, what have you learned tonight?"

"I learned that it's important to give," he started. "And that it's important to share."

"And how do you feel now?" I asked, already convinced that Patty and I made the right decision to bring him along.

"I am a little sad, Papa."

"Why, Gabi?"

"Because we didn't bring toys," he reasoned out. "Can we come back tomorrow to bring them toys? I want to share toys with them."

"Sure, Gabi," I was so proud of my four year old son. "Why don't you put together some of your old toys and we'll bring them here tomorrow."

"No, Papa! Not my toys... I want to share Bela's toys with them!"

Kwentong Barbero

You were only seven months when we first brought you to the parlor. And we chose one with lots of distractions since we didn't know how you would react to a pair of scissors snipping your hair away.

But you were a good boy. Well behaved. Hardly complained as the barber went about his work. Thanks in large part to Barney who kept you company on the small TV in front of you.

In less than fifteen minutes it was done. Your first rite of passage from a baby to a young boy.

From then on, at least once every three months, we would go back to the same parlor. Barney was still there. And Dora and Boo too. And you looked forward to each trip. Because of the goodies the barber gave you after each haircut. And because of gym play in nearby Gymboree that inevitably followed.

After you turned three, you chose not to go to the same parlor anymore. You were now a big boy and wanted to go to a big boy barber shop. So off we went to Bruno's. Papa on one chair and you right beside him. And for the first time ever, thanks to the large mirror in front of you, you witnessed how hair was actually cut.

You were so fascinated with what you saw that upon reaching home you got your own pair of scissors and cut your own hair!


And so back to the barber shop we went, where in less than five minutes, the electric razor left you hairless. Lesson learned. And so we hope.

And now that you're four, our barber tales continue. Like the time we went to this shop where instead of powder and a white brush, the barber used a vacuum to remove the bits of hair around your neck.

Haircuts, my son, are milestones. Bonding moments between you and me and Mommy. Memories we will keep forever. Even when we no longer have hair.

Sunday Mornings with Gabi

Early Sunday mornings are spent with Gabi in Starbucks. Papa with his tall cafe mocha and Gabi with his honey glazed doughnut. It's what Gabi calls a "boys only" meeting: no Mommy, no Bela, no yayas.

This weekly "chat" is something I learned from my own father. Though he was a very busy man, he made it a point to chat with each of us kids for one hour every week. And it was scheduled. And complete with an agenda, resolutions, next steps and timetables.

My chat with my four year old son is less structured. And it's a meeting that Gabi dominates. He sets the agenda. He does most of the talking. And he asks all the questions.

The conversation topics are varied. And many times profound. His queries admittedly baffle me from time to time.

"If junk food is bad for us, why do they sell it in the groceries?"


"Why are we celebrating (President) Cory's death? Is dying good?"


"So Papa, if God made everything ... who made God?"

I may not know how to answer all his questions but I always give him an answer in terms that he would understand. And when I don't know, I tell him that I will try to find out.

I love it that Gabi expresses his curiosity. And I encourage this sense of wonder in him by being there to try and answer all his questions. For just like with my own father and our weekly chats, I hope to be there in the future for Gabi to run to when the bigger questions in life arise.

For now, I'm just thankful there's Google to help me find answers to Gabi's questions!

Modern Day Heroes

"We don't have school on Monday," Gabi reminded me while we were driving to Subic yesterday morning.

"And why is that?" I wanted to know if the teachers in school explained what National Heroes' Day was all about.

"Because it's Heroes' Day. It's the day for heroes like Cory." Gabi proudly replied.

Wow, I thought. Bringing Gabi to watch President Cory's funeral march earlier this month was well worth it after all.

"And who else are heroes?" I asked.

"Ordinary people," he said. "Like policemen and firemen. And like those who bake, those who cook. Like Mommy!"

I was impressed. I liked what Gabi was getting from school. The noble idea of turning ordinary work into something heroic was something worth learning.

"And so who is your favorite hero?" I wanted to be impressed some more.

"Mmmm," he paused in deep thought. "My favorite is Spiderman!"

Exchange Deal

"Your son has good bargaining powers," Gabi's teacher told Patty after class today.

Teacher then went on to narrate a scene she witnessed earlier that morning involving Gabi and a classmate whom we shall call Ely.

Turns out Ely brought a new toy airplane to school today. He showed it to his classmates before the start of class and promised to let them play with it during recess.

As they began filing in to their classroom, Gabi quietly pulled Ely aside and whispered: "Ely, you want to be my best friend, right?"

"Yes, Gabi. I like" was Ely's answer.

"Well, if you want me to be your best friend then you will share your toy with me. Okay?"

Needless to say, Gabi got to play with Ely's plane during recess and Ely now has a new best friend.

Plaque Monster!

"Can you do me a favor, Papa?" Gabi asked as I picked him up from school this lunch time.

"Sure, Gabi," I said, already expecting a request to pass by his favorite fast food chain for chicken, fries and rice.

"Can you please stop drinking Coke Light?" was his surprising reply. "And I will stop eating candy."

"Why?" I asked, now truly curious.

"Because the Plaque Monster will go inside our mouth and make a hole in our teeth!"

Turns out that a lady dentist visited the school today to talk about proper oral hygiene. She was invited as part of the class' month long series on people in the community.

And obviously, her scare tactics worked.

"Please, Papa, I don't want that to happen to us," Gabi pleaded some more, the fear in his voice seemed real.

"Yes, anak, we will try," was my attempt to reassure him. "we will really try."

Gabi then handed me a small package. Inside was a toothbrush, two sachets of toothpaste and the flyer and calling card of the lady dentist.

Now that's what I call direct marketing.

Better Late Than Never

Gabi and I got to school early today. And with good reason.

Yesterday we received Gabi's first monthly school report. It began well.

Gabi has proven to be very confident since day one. He verbally tells everyone that he already knows how something is done and attempts to demonstrate it most of the time. Like when teacher writes her morning message on the board, he tries to read it with much confidence and succeeds most of the time.


Then, out of nowhere, the reprimand came.

Since we started school, Gabi has shown how much he missed playing with his friends in school. Sometimes, even when it's discussion time already, he still tends to tell stories to them, which hinders him from concentrating on the discussion. It might help if he would arrive on time and have Free Play (8:30-8:50), when he gets to have all the time to socialize with everyone and play with the materials in the classroom and enjoy playing with everything else.

Oops. Yikes. Sorry, Gabi. Papa's fault.

I know that you are almost always ready to leave for school at 8:15. It's Papa who dilly dallies in the morning.

Promise. Papa will work on his tardiness.

Speechless

For once, Papa was speechless!

Today was my Moving Up Day in Little Sandbox. And I received an award!

The teachers voted me the Little Chatter Award for being able to "express my mind freely" and "converse with others fluently."

In other words, because they can't keep me quiet, they decided to give me an award of excellence for being madaldal.

And I choose to chat not with my classmates, many of whom are still in the googoo, gaga stage, but with my teachers. I like telling them stories of where I went on the weekend, the games I played, the places I visited, the people I met.

Sure, I still have to work on my pronunciation and I still mix up my past perfect and past progressive tenses but by and large, I think I am understood by most.

Papa was so surprised by my award. I am sure he was proud of me. But I guess he was more caught off guard by the accolade.

Papa doesn't realize that it's all his fault. He and Mommy have always insisted on talking to me like an adult. Even when I was still in a crib and not yet crawling.

Every morning, while having breakfast and before Mommy wakes up, Papa and I spend the time talking about anything and everything. Today Papa asked me what I wanted to do during the summer. Of course he had to explain to me what summer was and what it meant. That there was no regular school because the teachers needed to rest. But that if I wanted, I could continue to go to school for special classes or join football clinics or swimming lessons.

I enjoy these chats I have with Papa. Not only do I get the chance to learn new words and expressions but I also get a chance to be with my Papa before he sets off for another long day of work.

But why were you speechless, Papa? This we have to talk about.