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My Tw|t Garden
Thursday, November 19, 2009
regret versus gratitude

I wish for a lot of things...



... and I know they might just as well not come true at all.



Like how sometimes... I wish he'd know I'd like him to cook a romantic meal for me instead of bringing me to an expensive, fanciful restaurant to celebrate an occasion... (It's really nice to have a guy cook for you... I once had a guy cook instant noodles for me... and I thought it was the nicest tasting delicacy ever!)



And how sometimes... I wish he'd stop looking at other women but only at me... so I can at least feel a little less ugly... (whose men don't look at other girls, I'd like to know.)



These won't happen. I know. And many other things too.



I wonder what would have happened if our path had never crossed... would he be happier? Would I? Perhaps not. Like I said before, SHIT happens. Even if its with another person.



On another different note not even remotely close to what I've just lamented on...



Random strangers are really keen on my darling Ian...



I have strangers on the train attempting to chat Ian up with impossibly funny baby talk... salespersons fawning over his big swollen face... guessing his gender and offering to carry him for a while.



What's best about having Ian around me... is that I have kind gentleMEN holding doors and lift-doors for me; its really nice to see civic-minded people (note: MEN only) around nowadays... since its been ages I've encountered one. Maybe its the kid, maybe its ME plus the kid (cos women usually don't hold doors for me and most often, they raced to get pass me in trains and lifts); whatever it is, its nice.



Like the time when I went for a pedicure...



I left Ian sleeping in his buggy while the manicurist worked on my toes, unfortunately he woke up and decided to spit some milk all over himself.



"Oh! Oh! He vomited!" exclaimed the horrified manicurist who was free and watching over Ian.



The lady boss of the shop told her to shush lest she startle Ian and instructed her to wipe off the spit on his face and body.



"With what? Hanky? This one?"



Yes, I told her, that one on his buggy. (well, there was only one handkerchief in his buggy)



"Aiyoh! That is his cap!" another patron of the shop said in exasperation.



(--)||



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Babies just bring out the child in everyone, don't they? Until they can't differentiate a hanky from a cap...