Life in Singapore has been easy and comfortable. Living in a serviced residence, as I have described, certainly helps. Helen, who runs the breakfast café, greets us by name every morning and always comes over to tickle Finn. We've since adopted her nickname for him: "Chubby! Chubby!" Our housekeepers are warm and helpful. The more regular one, Ming Xia, even brought Sam a teddy bear, which he astutely named, "New Bear."
It is customary in Singapore to address older women as "auntie." While I wouldn't consider Ming Xia elderly, when talking to Sam she referred to herself as Auntie, and that is now what he calls her. When she comes in, he jumps up and down yelling "Auntie" and follows her all over while she cleans. They play a little game with the vacuum. He cowers on the couch while she inches closer and then makes him touch it. And after she's gone, he narrates how Auntie gave him New Bear.
We use a regular babysitter from the housekeeping staff, allowing Pat and I to enjoy Singapore's wealth of restaurants. At first Sam would cry when Patricia came to the door, but now he waves us off, thrilled that he gets to watch his Elmo DVDs until he says he's ready for bed.
I take Sam twice a week to the kids' gym across the street. On Mondays it's open play, and on Wednesdays we take a class with D., the little boy in our building who also has a younger brother about Finn's age. I believe I've mentioned them in a previous post. Sam has become quite fond of D., and I very much enjoy my conversations with his mother. Sadly, they've moved out of Fraser Place and into their permanent Singapore residence, just as we are getting ready to move on ourselves.
We solved our initial sleep problems by putting Sam back in the crib and requesting a second one for Finn. This has worked out well, leaving us to wonder how we will manage in Paris. A friend is supposedly lending us one crib, and we'll have to somehow acquire another.
Since returning from Ko Samui, I've enrolled Sam in a Montessori-style daycare-school-type place located on the same floor as the Cold Storage and the play gym in the mall across the street. It's basically a three-hour drop-off program, and I can choose how many days I send him (two, though this week I may try three). I'm not really sure what makes it Montessori; it seems to be more structured. I think it's just a hot term in Singapore. Most daycare places I've seen around here bill themselves as Montessori, but none of them are officially registered with any formal organization, as best I can tell.
Nonetheless, Sam loves it and asks for "more school with Teacher Vicky." (His friend, D., used to attend, as have other kids I've met in the building or at gym.) I'm kicking myself that I didn't send him when we first arrived. I think the structure would have helped his transition, and while I'd like to apply the lesson learned to Paris, I fear the situation there will be much like Boston: programs have long wait lists and big price tags.
Even with an established routine, Sam has been having tremendous, toe-curling (his), ear-splitting (mine) tantrums. For example, I offer him the choice of cheese or butter on his toast. As soon as he says, "cheese," he quickly says "butter," and he continues to reverse until I demand a final answer, warn him that once it's spread, there's no going back, I butter the bread, and then he screams, "Nooo!!!! Cheeeese!!!" And then there's no calming him down. This happens several times a day, in situations when I try to give him a choice, or when it's time to leave and I've given him fair warning to prepare for the "transition," or just because nothing will make him happy. I've heard parents of two say that the older child often reacts most strongly to the birth of a sibling six months after the fact, and I wonder if that has something to do with it, or if it's because of our new environs, or if he'd be this way no matter what just because he's two.
(Sidebar: as I write this, he has had two wonderful days with hardly a tear. While I don't want to jinx the trend, I want to be fair. When he's sweet, he's sooo sweet, but when he's sour, he could make a lemon shrivel.)
Sam also seems to be giving up his nap. I don't understand this; he seems much too young. He probably only naps one in every three or four days. He's clearly on edge the evenings he skips his nap. Then again, when he does nap, he often wakes up in a fit and takes at least a half hour, if not longer, to calm down. Given the disruption and jet lag we're about to face, I'm throwing up my hands on this one. Maybe once we're settled into a routine in Paris, it will work itself out.
Finn, on the other hand, almost always wakes up with a smile. He ooches around quite a bit when he's on his stomach, leaving us to speculate that he might skip rolling over and go straight to crawling. But he's now finally rolling over with ease and regularity. He stays in a seated position fairly well, and he usually doesn't complain too much when he tips over. He has started teething; the first tooth is now tangible under his lower gum. And, it's no surprise, he's taken readily to solid foods. Though I think half the joy for him is to be eating at the table with his brother.
With the comfort of a routine comes remorse that we are about to pick up and do it all over again. We leave for Paris in less than a week.
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