Friday, November 03, 2006
the tasmanian
it's not easy to get him to sit still for more than five seconds.
we all don't know where his limitless reserve of energy comes from. it's kinda scary you know, i mean, where do you draw the line and tell whether a child is normal-healthy kind of active or not-so-normal kind of hyperactive?
even when he's trying to fall asleep he can't seem to keep still, tossing and turning and tonggang-terbalik-ing all over the place, wreaking havoc among the soft toys in his cot and causing a thousand wrinkles on the bedsheet!
his waking moments are spent tirelessly with his hands and feet in constant motion, exploring everything, fearless of new experiences and faces, with nary a whine each time he falls onto the floor or bumps into the wall, totally unfazed by anything, this tiny, toddling tornado.
i'd hold him down and tell him to slow down or "REST LAH! REST! kejap ajer, ONE minute!", but it won't be five seconds before he's wriggled his way out of my arms and he's off like a rocket to the next thing that catches his attention. :O
i manage to get him to do the darned stacking rings though, usually at night when he's not so wound up. well... up to three rings or four, then he's off, flinging them right left and centre, heh. well, that surely is way more exciting than boring ol' stacking, eh?
the relatives have forewarned me many times how active his daddy was as a child, executing numerous stunts with almost devastating outcomes. but look what's become of him now - the capital of Slack. sometimes he moves even slower than a 100-year-old snail. there's a permanent dent in the sofa that has his butt's name on it.
i can't remember, but perhaps i too was something of a tornado myself. there was one time when i was small, i was running round and round and round the coffee table in the hall, when my dad must have snapped and ROARED at me to stop running around and sit down like a proper girl. i think that must have been the point when i stopped running, period. i'm not sure why that's etched in my mind, but it probably had some bearing to my total lack of activeness, my constant dread of sports and god-forbid, PE! my couch-potato-ness, my slacker-ness (yes, i AM the missus capital of Slack). the only physical activity that is anywhere near marathon-like and i don't mind exerting on now is, of course, shopping.
so at what point will this wound-up energizer bunny slow down and sit still long enough to focus on something constructive (as opposed to being the epitome of destruction that he is now)?
teenagehood?
*imagines teenage aniq in dimmed room full of posters, wearing black, with iPod stuck to ears, eyes glued to computer game screen, mtv blaring in the background, while i scream at him - "THROW RUBBISH!"*
# posted by izadnhana at 11:56 AM
--->
we all don't know where his limitless reserve of energy comes from. it's kinda scary you know, i mean, where do you draw the line and tell whether a child is normal-healthy kind of active or not-so-normal kind of hyperactive?
even when he's trying to fall asleep he can't seem to keep still, tossing and turning and tonggang-terbalik-ing all over the place, wreaking havoc among the soft toys in his cot and causing a thousand wrinkles on the bedsheet!
his waking moments are spent tirelessly with his hands and feet in constant motion, exploring everything, fearless of new experiences and faces, with nary a whine each time he falls onto the floor or bumps into the wall, totally unfazed by anything, this tiny, toddling tornado.
i'd hold him down and tell him to slow down or "REST LAH! REST! kejap ajer, ONE minute!", but it won't be five seconds before he's wriggled his way out of my arms and he's off like a rocket to the next thing that catches his attention. :O
i manage to get him to do the darned stacking rings though, usually at night when he's not so wound up. well... up to three rings or four, then he's off, flinging them right left and centre, heh. well, that surely is way more exciting than boring ol' stacking, eh?
the relatives have forewarned me many times how active his daddy was as a child, executing numerous stunts with almost devastating outcomes. but look what's become of him now - the capital of Slack. sometimes he moves even slower than a 100-year-old snail. there's a permanent dent in the sofa that has his butt's name on it.
i can't remember, but perhaps i too was something of a tornado myself. there was one time when i was small, i was running round and round and round the coffee table in the hall, when my dad must have snapped and ROARED at me to stop running around and sit down like a proper girl. i think that must have been the point when i stopped running, period. i'm not sure why that's etched in my mind, but it probably had some bearing to my total lack of activeness, my constant dread of sports and god-forbid, PE! my couch-potato-ness, my slacker-ness (yes, i AM the missus capital of Slack). the only physical activity that is anywhere near marathon-like and i don't mind exerting on now is, of course, shopping.
so at what point will this wound-up energizer bunny slow down and sit still long enough to focus on something constructive (as opposed to being the epitome of destruction that he is now)?
teenagehood?
*imagines teenage aniq in dimmed room full of posters, wearing black, with iPod stuck to ears, eyes glued to computer game screen, mtv blaring in the background, while i scream at him - "THROW RUBBISH!"*
# posted by izadnhana at 11:56 AM
