Parenting on Purpose

The evening sun bade its final farewell as it retreated behind the wall of thick grey clouds. Nonetheless, the skies still retained the colour of day as the world was not yet ready to welcome the night. In the land of Singapore, in a little corner of the island, a young boy dashed out of the elevator. It was as though he had been cooped up all day at home (which he had been), and that he was now raring to flex his leg muscles. Behind him trailed an older man, tired after a long day of work, and slowly pushing a little infant child in a light-weight stroller. The little boy's footsteps came to a sudden stop. He stood transfixed at the majestic palm tree with its luscious leaves swaying in the twilight breeze. All at once a wave of inspiration seemed to hit him, and the boy exclaimed his desire to capture that moment in time forever. "Ah! Take photo!" he said. Our older son Z began his love affair with palm trees from as far back as we can remember. But it was only i...

The little girl seemed to stare directly out of the book. Her soft auburn hair sat nicely on her shoulders; her cheeks were rosy and bursting with health. But it was her eyes that told the story. Gazing into the distance as if in anticipation of what was supposed to come, they provided the best indication of how the poor child felt. Our elder son took his time to study the picture of the little girl staring out of the window. He seemed transfixed by the image; choosing neither to turn the page, nor to put down the book. After what seemed like hours, the two-year-old pointed at the girl with a frown on his forehead.  "Lonely," he said. "Oh?" asked his Daddy. "What do you mean, Z?" "Lonely," insisted the little boy. "Are you lonely, my son?" asked the father. "Yes," he replied. It was some months ago that I discovered just how useful "My Little Book of Feelings" was. It was a simple pocket-sized board ...

The little boy looked so peaceful as he slept. With his eyes glued tightly and a little frown woven across his forehead, the 6-month-old seemed all but oblivious to the world around. His body, however, told a different story. As the boy's father tucked him in to bed that night, he felt an unusual glow of heat emanating from the sleeping baby. While it was true that the child normally radiated heat while he slept, and his cot was normally drenched by the beads of perspiration, however that night his temperature seemed particularly high. Out of concern, the boy's father decided to check his child's temperature. And the result sent a chill up his spine. 38.4 degrees Celsius. The events of that night took place about two weeks ago and they still remain etched in my mind. When I confirmed that the temperature reading was accurate, the first thought that came to my mind was, "Thank God that E has already passed his 6-month birthday." The mental image that had ent...

The screaming permeated the entire house. It was a cry that would not be assuaged. The little boy was deeply troubled. Scampering to the source of the noise, he entered his parents' room, and immediately tilted his little head to see what was going on. A deep sorrow arose within him. On the bed lay a baby, and the poor thing was yelling at the top of its lungs. The two-year-old did the only thing he could do; he dashed to the side of the bed and climbed hurriedly onto the mattress. Making his way to the littler child, the toddler rested his hand on the baby, and gently stroked its tiny head.  "Didi," said the little boy. "Stop cry." And the two-year-old swiftly crept down the bed again, running to his parents with a look of deep worry and anticipation, as if asking them intuitively when they would finally provide the milk to relieve his little brother's cries. It has been just a little more than half a year since our second son E arrived h...

The little boy stared in wide-eyed astonishment as the warm liquid gushed out from under the belly of the large creature. The two-year-old involuntarily twitched his eyebrows, as if to indicate a reaction of disbelief. All doubt was however completely dispelled when the action was repeated in front of him yet again. His eyes now registered a sense of amazement; although this was a look that also recorded some semblance of understanding. My older son Z had just witnessed his first cow-milking experience. And while he was not yet prepared to be personally engaged in the encounter itself, his actions were a far cry from his earlier response - which was to shy away from the herd of cows, and to cower away from the huge yet gentle creatures. This incident took place no more than two weeks ago in the lovely land of Taiwan, in a place uniquely called the Flying Cow Ranch . Nestled in the luscious countryside county of Miaoli, the ranch is home to numerous cows, sheep...

The little boy squealed in delight. Mirroring his Daddy and Mummy, he mouthed the words of a song so familar to him, all complete with corresponding hand actions. The 2-year-old then lifted his hands and launched a purposeful punch into the air. "Yeah!" he cried. It was Sunday evening. The day was almost done, and little Z was in his cosy room, having an enjoyable time singing songs. Daddy and Mummy had initiated this special time because they wanted to create a new family ritual. The singing was the penultimate activity before bed. It was just before the nightly prayer time that they had always been spending with him as far back as they could remember. But that night was only the third such song session, and the first with the animated hand gestures. And judging from Z's exuberant response, Daddy and Mummy knew that they were indeed doing the right thing, that they were creating a special time to teach their son how to honour the most important person in their live...

2012 has been a year of numerous transitions; two of the most momentous being the arrival of our second son E as well as my new job in a different part of the education sector. The arrival of E just over three months ago threw our life back into a tempest just as we were beginning to learn how to negotiate the storms associated with a two-year-old and his tantrums. Back then, we had just returned from a restful trip with our first son Z to Phuket, and had resolved some of the issues of miscommunication and misunderstanding between us and him. Before the trip there were so many instances when we were frustrated with him because of his tantrums (and I'm sure he probably felt the same way about us). But all that changed after the two-week trip; Sue and I believe it was because we gave him undivided attention, and that we had become more sensitive to his needs, understanding more and more the non-verbal signals that he was sending. Then E came and life has never been the same a...