Bring home the tasty pastry

This was another well-loved staple in our house. Whenever Dad went shopping (with Mum or alone), he would come back with some tasty treats for the "kids". This would range from some of the costliest, mouth-watering chocolate truffles to the simple yet satisfying sweet-things such as those delectable "choco balls" sold by FoodWorld. There would generally be two of everything, with a few extra ones here and there (Mum and Dad also needed to eat something, right?!). For me personally, it was always very exciting to dive into the shopping bags brought home to find the one that contained the "immediately eatable" baked goods and partition it for everyone and start eating it right away. My love for those choco/rum balls, the croissants, those incredibly rich "Japanese" cakes - all started right there in those shopping bags. Whatever one can say about my Dad, this is an undeniable fact - he knows what his kids like, and he brings that home. Thanks, Dad.

Understanding the kid in me

Over the years, my Dad and I have had plenty of disagreements - some of which have been extremely heated and unbecoming of us. Most of my frustrated screaming fits were due to me thinking that "Dad doesn't get it" or something along those lines. And it tends to be that the mind thinks that people my own age would understand better, especially my brother Sam. There's one undying memory in my head, though, that's contrary to such notions and it stands out like a beacon in the darkness of such thoughts. I'm guessing I was somewhere between 12-14 years of age when this occurred. I fell totally in love with a song (the first song that I fell for) from a children's cassette - The Amazing Book - called Letter of Love. I loved everything about it, and so I carved the words "Love Letter" on a fat stick that was lying around the room. When my bro found it, he started questioning me with a mischievous look "What's this da? Love letter, huh?!" Without batting an eyelid, my Dad shushed my bro "You guys listen to that song so much, know? Must be from that." I was stunned. Normally, things should have been the other way around with Dad questioning and bro stepping in. There have been many more instances of my Dad fully comprehending and understanding his two sons. But none are so indelibly burned into my memory such as this one - thanks, Dad, for the understanding, insight and wisdom.

Accommodating the kids

Another little known fact in current friend circles: Sam and I, each had our set of plastic (and other material) toys (teddy bear kinds) with which we've spent loads of time playing around. I had my set of non-living friends, and Sam had his. We treated them like people within our own imaginary games. Although Mum seldom joined us in the fun, her full support was with us at all times. She helped us sew tiny pillows and other things for these inanimate people that we kids loved. We eventually grew out of those toys, but I'll fondly remember Mum being the epitome of encouragement and help for our little selves' imaginary world. Thanks, Mum.

Hitting without hurting

A little known fact about Mum. She hates "conditioning" or "scolding" little kids. So when Sam (my bro) and I were kids, and we did something "bad" (which happened quite often, if my memory serves me right) my Mum would try hard to discipline us. I say try because her strongest form of discipline (short of complaining to Dad!) would be to use an inverted comb (a thin, long one) to whack our outstretched palms. Really. At times, it did sting quite a bit; but mostly, this punishment wasn't sufficient for crimes committed. People who've worked with Mum and worked for Mum can tell you simply - Mum is very strict. She would discipline her college students who bunked college for Ministry, though her heart was for Ministry. That being the extent of her disciplining, having her mete out "punishment" to us in the most mildest form possible was something that proved beyond doubt that her disciplining was not without love. I never understood this as a kid - that she provides mild physical punishments because of love; but looking back now, it's pretty clear that her tender heart and immense love is what made us escape multitudes of possible punishments, as kids. Thanks, Mum.

Me and My Many Words

If you know me at all, you'll know that I can't stop talking. And when I talk, I talk in long, lengthy sentences. I simply have to explain every single thing to every single person - the full thought behind the concept has to be conveyed to the people around me all the time. Be it technology, physics, biology or the working of human minds - I always explain everything, and then I go overboard. This verbosity comes from my mother. Her explanations for situations and incidents run like epic films from the '30s or '40s. But the underlying theme is - ensure that everyone who is listening to you got every little detail that matters. Somehow, this has filtered into me. It makes me good (I think so!) at explaining concepts from the Bible, from my college textbooks, to take training sessions, to handle sessions with school kids... Basically, me and my many words come from my Mum. Many have made fun of me for these many words - but me, I'm proud of them. These words make me me. Thanks, Mum.