A serving of fun and melody

My daughter and I had put a kiddie song into action at the dinner table the other day.  Since she’s been loving a song from an online kiddie site that shows how sandwiches are made, I thought it would be great to simulate the setting and make a couple of sandwiches together while we sing the song. 

After we dunked a couple of chocolate sandwich cookies in a glass of milk as late afternoon snack, I figured dinner should be lighter than usual.  Besides, her daddy was in a meeting and won’t be joining us for dinner.  So that evening was perfect for a sandwich!

I prepared thin strips of chicken breast fillet marinated in low-fat yoghurt with a dash of turmeric for color and flavor and just enough salt (no pepper because she doesn’t like it).  I crumbled several pieces of salted biscuits and used these as breading for the the chicken fillets.  I fried them using a little canola oil.  We also had some fat slices of fresh tomatoes and of course, small whole wheat buns. 

With everything set on the table, I asked her to sit down and get ready for some fun as we were about to make the sandwiches that Boowa and Kwala (the names of the characters in the song) make.  Her face beamed as she settled herself on her seat.  We sang the song while picking up the breads first, then the chicken fillets, and last, the tomatoes – just as the characters did in the song.

We sang it a couple of times more as she prepared more sandwiches for both of us.  She ended up eating three, but with the last one having a chocolate sandwich cookie as filling. Oh well, who says you can’t do that? She said it’s her ‘dessert’. Yeah, why not!

It was one fine evening.  I think we’ll have more servings of fun and melody again some time soon.

Lost in her little arms

As a parent, I always tend to play a balancing act when dealing with my child.  I often find myself struggling to be calm when she is whinning and seems to be undecided on what she likes, to be brave when she is scared, to be firm and authoritative when she’s violating our rules, and to be more enthusiastic when she is bored. 

Except when she’s happy, I’d be anything but the opposite of her, trying to make a conscious effort to balance her feelings with mine.  Although the results aren’t perfect all the time, I never considered giving in or breaking down as a response; not until the other day when we lost her favorite toy in the supermarket.

How to eat fish and other life lessons

Using your fingers, take all of the flesh even those in between the tiny bones.  If the fins and tails are crunchy or soft enough, try to eat them too.  If not, just suck all the flavors you can get.  There are also craps of flesh in the head – on top, bottom, on the side and also the fleshy part of the eyes – make sure you pull out and eat all of these.  You may have to suck it too. But be careful not to swallow the hard bones.  You should be left with nothing but bones that even a cat wouldn’t take for a meal.

This wasn’t just an instruction but a firm order from the best fisher in the house – my dad.  For him, wasting any edible part of the fish is very much like wasting and ignoring his hard labor. 

Having raised in a farming and fishing community, my dad became an expert in everything that has to do with farm and fish.  When I was young, my siblings and I were practically fed with his bountiful catches, which he was able to take home after an evening hunt if not an overnight stay in the river, sometimes even during the cold months.  But even when the dinner table was sprawling with those big catches, that wasn’t an excuse to leave a fish with still some flesh on it. 

Pancake cravings

Just recently, I decided to discard my old pancake recipe just because I think a pancake can be better than that.  It was good but not superb.  Over a couple of days, I have tried two pancake recipes I got from the Internet and ended up liking (very much) the second one.  My daughter loves it, too!

My dream, in bits & pieces

Some dreams just fade like bubbles in the air.  But I have one that has never left my fantasy up to this day – that of becoming a professional dancer.

I have envisioned that dream a long long time ago, right there beside my mother’s closet where I regularly mined clothes, scarves, and accessories to come up with a dance outfit. 

I had other dreams, though.  I also wanted to become a nurse because I was attracted with the white cap.  I also wanted to become a doctor because I found the white robe with the stethoscope dangling on the chest very appealing and sophisticated.  

There was also a time when I wanted to become a broadcast journalist and experience the glamor that goes with every appearance on TV. 

Eventually, though, I seem to have lost interest on those dreams.  But my dream of becoming a professional dancer or its close relatives never faded.

Echoes by the river

Whenever I think of my childhood days, my memory would always take me back to the times I spent with my grandparents during school breaks, weekends, or holidays.  

Their house, which was made of wood and bamboo, was huge enough to raise all of their five children including my father.  The lower part was used to store grains and harvests from their small piece of land.

Just a few meters north was a river that always offered big catches of all sorts of fish.  The river and the house seemed to be in perfect union, always symbiotic, creating a perfect space for a growing family. 

But the house is no longer there and the river that once flowed gently beside it already occupies that space where it stood for many many years.  Soon after my grandmother died, strong typhoons after another chipped the riverbanks so hard that the house was eventually consumed.