Missing The Point

Sophie (during prayer time, no less): If I'm naughty, will the police take me to jail?

Mummy: No!

Sophie: Then who will take me to jail if I'm very naughty?

Mummy: Nobody will take you to jail just because you're naughty, darling.

Sophie (indignantly): Oh, you mean I'll have to walk there by myself?

Rachel's Progress According to ABBA

Mother says I was a dancer before I could walk
She says I began to sing long before I could talk
And I've often wondered, how did it all start
Who found out that nothing can capture a heart
Like a melody can
Well, whoever it was, I'm a fan
So I say...

My Favourite Person

S asked the kids this question:

"Who is your favourite person?"

Matthew: God!

Sarah: Elton John!

Sophie: Me!

Rachel: ng-hng...

Happy Holidays

That's right. Our school-going kids are now already into their year-end holidays, thanks very much to the herpangina virus. Third time lucky? This round it included special treats like Daddy rushing from the SW of Singapore to the NE to take Sarah and her 39-degree fever home from school with her puking in the car (and leaving our Monopoly set behind), the next day Daddy covering an even greater distance to get Sophie and her mouth ulcers away from her poor little classmates still saddled with another week of school, Matthew hitting a record 40.1 degrees, and a final, cosy little trip of just Daddy and the three big kids to the doctor to confirm the diagnosis. Where was Mommy in all this, one might ask. Oh, not very far away. Just posing and repeating "Om" a few times at a downtown yoga sanctuary, or buying more lovely dies and texture plates off ebay, and oh, of course, working VERY HARD in the office. Mommy got no car, bopian.

So, they're now all ensconced at home, no school excursions, no after-exam games in class, no West Coast Park outing this Saturday, and no first steak dinner for Matthew until doctor gives them the all-clear. Speaking of which, I had considered taking him to Morton's at first, but that will certainly start him off with UNREALISTIC EXPECTATIONS. So, Astons it'll be, when he's good and hungry again.

This morning they were each provided with a big paper bag and tasked to fill them with toys and other stuff they no longer wanted. They were actually enthusiastic about it, and particularly towards things not their own. "But you don't need it!" was the common refrain as they tried to throw out each other's old things. Good! I endeavour to inculcate in them the virtue of chucking and that is a sure step in the right direction. Always try to throw out OTHER people's things first.

Meanwhile, Baby has been given the all clear at her very first appointment with the therapist as regards her walking (or lack of), given that she can climb the sofa and cruise, and also as regards her speech (or lack of), given that she has no problems with reception and fuller expression can expectedly come later. Good. Now to see what the specialists say, since her doc thinks it'll probably be a matter of sooner and not later that the lump in her head should come out, based on her recent MRI scans. Well, shopping for the right brain surgeon is almost as interesting and engaging as trying to pick the right items for combining shipping on ebay, and rather trickier. We've been given some big names at different hospitals to consider and consult, and kind souls have given us plenty to think about regarding post-op ICU care and so on. The medical social worker was glad to observe that we seemed to be positive and have good support, so, to keep that up. Well, we certainly wouldn't be as content as we are now without our three F's: our Faith, our Family and our Friends. So, THANK YOU and HAPPY HOLIDAYS one and all!

Courtesy

Courtesy is for free
Courtesy is for you and me
It makes for gracious living and harmony
Giving a friendly smile
Helping out where we can
Trying hard to be polite all the time

It's rude to be abusive just to prove we're right
Instead we could be nice about it if we tried

Courtesy is for free
Courtesy is for you and me
It makes for gracious living and harmony
Living could be a treat
If people are awfully sweet
Courtesy could be our way of life

Make courtesy our way of life

The Scrapping Senes

I don't suppose just getting a proper machine and supplies qualifies us as a scrapping family, especially since I have no intentions of actually putting together any scrapbook pages. But I like the sound of it anyway. Reminds me of Scrappy Doo and his wonderful "Lemme at 'em! I'll splat 'em!" attitude!

The Sizzix Big Shot (what a great name!) is very well made, and looks charming, to me. Embossing and cutting is literally a turn-the-crank affair. Even Sophie can work it without help.

It's great for engaging the kids since they're very free at home now, and will be even "freer" during the coming school holidays. I love the pretty dies and embossing folders that we got to go with it. That said, it took us two and a half hours at the shop, with the help of our ever reliable old friend W, to make our final selection!




Now all I need are holidays to play with everything, and lots and lots of paper!

Travel Declaration

I suppose it must be for disease control that MOE requires the kids to submit travel declaration forms every school holidays. The kids want to go to Bintan this December, so we have made a booking, but we haven't officially announced it to them yet.

Last night Sarah said to Sean, "Daddy, can we go to Bintan please? But Mummy already put Indonesia in my travel declaration form."

Sean replied, "Do you think that Bintan is a country?"

"Yes?"

Matthew went, "Bintan is in Indonesia!"

You could literally see the dawn of understanding breaking over Sarah's face as she processed this information, and her delight at the end of it as she cried, "Yay! We're going to Bintan!"

Then she added, "Daddy, next time on the travel declaration can you put Australia?"

Flashback

Mum did some major house-clearing, and guess what turned up? Among other back issues of CAR, these three gems:

- Richard Bremner’s epic, groundbreaking trip to the Sahara dunes in a Ferrari F512M (nee Testarossa). Why? Well, the title said it all: Because It’s There. Remember, this was before Ferrari had (more or less) sorted its reliability issues. This was surely the precursor and daddy of all the offbeat drive stories to follow.

"‘When d’you think you’ll be back?’ ‘Well, I don’t quite know,’ I admit. ‘Maybe 10, 12 days – it depends.’ ‘OK. Good luck. Ciao.’ That’s it. I leave, feeling like I’ve pulled off a bank robbery."

- The first drive of McLaren’s seminal F1, in all its exquisite detail. This included 6 pages of gorgeous photos highlighting the individual components contributing to this supercar of supercars’ low weight, stratospheric performance and equally eye-popping price.

In these post-Veyron days, GBP540,000 may not seem like much (heck, even a Lexus sells for over GBP300,000), but back in 1994, this was unheard of. Which prompted the great LJK Setright (who else?) to consider alternatives to spending half a million quid on one car. While his list included typical Setright fancies – spare tyres for a Bristol, GBP40,000 worth of additions to his library – he was inclined to agree with a like-minded soul: ‘surely a life-time’s supply of NSXs’.

- That infamous, damning long-term review of the VW Golf MkIII VR6, succinctly summed up its stark cover: Lemon. Trim falling off, engine heat entering the passenger compartment, dodgy suspension, it made the Vatican’s assessment of The Da Vinci Code look quite glowing in comparison. Volkswagen, as you can imagine, was not pleased.

But this was the kind of thing that only CAR could get away with – I remember my dad posting a study when he was writing for a local car magazine, where Saab scored higher than Volvo in a safety test, and Volvo immediately threatened to pull all advertising from the publication. Impartiality, what’s that?

It must be my eyes glazing all rose-like, but everything about these 15 year-old magazines evoked polish and quality, that rags today (yes, even CAR itself, sad to say) seem to lack. I think that political correctness, attention deficit and an inordinate obsession with the bottom line have so subtly subdued our society that writers end up practicing more self-censorship than they are aware of.

Not so journalists like Setright and George Bishop, who regaled us with the pleasures of wine, cigars and the art of driving fast. They never shied away from writing exactly what they thought, in the most lucid, idiosyncratic way you could imagine. Their articles, while sometimes difficult to digest, always demanded a repeat read, and could provide lessons in the English language all by themselves.

Ah, glory days!

More On The Tooth Fairy

Last night Matt asked me what if everybody loses a tooth at once, how will the tooth fairy be able to go to everyone in one night. I told him there's more than one tooth fairy, and each one has their own area to cover.

Then he asked how come the tooth fairies don't show themselves. I said they come by magic, and if they show themselves that would destroy the magic and they won't be able to come anymore. It's like Santa Claus.

Sarah immediately went, "Oh, they'll lose their job?"

It's funny how they humour me. The kids are actually dead certain it's Daddy who's putting the money in their tooth boxes. Matt says he has seen Daddy come in, and the reason he's even more sure is because, according to him, "You guys always smile when we talk about the tooth fairy!"

The kids have their own grasp of fiction and reality. In response to their query once about why people burn things during the seventh month, I had told them how people believe in ghosts, but they're not real. Sarah's response to that was, "Oh, it's like how we believe in the tooth fairy, but it's not real. Daddy puts it."

Boh-Geh Sarah

Sarah said to me this morning, "Mommy, I can take the train with you to office. I can hold your hand. If you're tired, I can help you up, and you won't miss the train." Pause. "I'm always helpful."

Nice try! She and Matt are home these two days for the PSLE oral exams. But Sophie still has nursery. Luckily I have the car to drive her instead of putting her on her usual schoolbus. She was already starting to kick up a fuss and that girl is loud.

Sarah is also losing her teeth apace: last week there were four shaky ones, two got pulled by the school dentist, now waiting for the extremely wobbly front tooth to fall. At the moment she's enjoying going around with it sticking out between her lips, bent forward at a crazy angle. I tried to encourage her to just yank it off herself, reminding her of the tooth fairy and the usual two bucks. Her response?

"I don't think I will get two dollars for this tooth. It has a decay here (pointing to it) so maybe I will only get fifty cents."

Tomorrow driving Sophie again. Can't wait for Sean to come back from reservist, and resume chauffeur duties. Saturday morning is not too far away!

ETA: He's coming home tonight! Yay!!

First Reaction To Uncle's iPad

Sarah, with glee: "Whose humongous iPhone is that?!!"

From The Kids

I hate you
You hate me
Barney started World War Three
With a great big bang
And his head flew off
Won't you say you hate me too?

~ by Matt


I hate you
You hate me
We're an angry family
With a great big punch
And a kick from me to you
Won't you say you hate me too?

~ by Sarah


And in the car Sophie will ask, "Please can I have rubbish?"
She actually means Garbage.

She also likes to call out from the third row in the back, "Go faster Daddy! Speed!!"

Theotokos

While I was showering Sarah, we heard Rachel crying briefly for her milk as Sean was putting her to bed.

Sarah turned to me and said, "Mummy, Mother Mary never cried when she was a baby. My teacher said she was always very good. She was a very good girl and a very good baby."

"Yes, oh, I don't know if she NEVER cried, but yes she was always very good, she was already good even before she was born, when she was inside her mummy's tummy." I guessed Sarah's teacher must have been explaining the concept of the Immaculate Conception to her class.

"Hmm, not fair, how come she's so good!" Sarah went.

"Mary is Jesus' mummy, of course she should be good because Jesus is God and he's perfect goodness himself. She has to carry him inside and look after him and bring him up, that's why God chose her to be good."

Sarah commented, "So lucky that God chose her!"

"Yes, she is really blessed among women. We can try to be like her to love Jesus and bring other people closer to him."

Later that evening, after prayers, I asked the children what they would like to do well tomorrow.

They were all thinking and Sarah suddenly said, "Mary!"

"Mary?"

"Tomorrow I want to be a good girl like Mother Mary," she confirmed.

"That's a great idea, Sarah. OK so tomorrow you can try hard to be good girl like Mother Mary. Matthew, what about you, whom would you like to be like tomorrow?" I asked.

While Matthew was thinking hard, Sarah said, "Jesus!"

I said, "That's a good idea! Matt, what do you think? Do you want to try to be like Jesus tomorrow?"

Matt replied, with some concern, "Yes... but I don't really know how to tell parables..."

Rachel's Update At 14 Months

We've been very blessed that Rachel's doctors are who they are. They are very good, even checking with doctors overseas on their own initiative, including informally discussing her case at the Mayo Clinic.

In a nutshell, she has neurofibromatosis type 1 (NF1) involving the right orbit, the plexiform tumor originating from the trigeminal nerve, with congenital glaucoma of the right eye, head and facial enlargement on the right side above the jaw, and multiple cafe au lait spots all over her body including a large patch on the right side of her face. She currently also has the sniffles, although that wouldn't really count.

Chemotherapy is out because the tumour is not fast-growing cells. Radiation is out because it can trigger more tumours or cause malignancy of the existing one. Surgical resection is on the cards for when she's older and has the size to deal with the likely high volume of blood loss because the tumour is highly vascularized and deep in the head, making it hard to staunch bleeding.

For now we're aggressively treating the glaucoma. She has had multiple laser ops (TCP) done to zap off the fluid-producing parts, but they keep regenerating. Already had a trabeculectomy to open a hole in the eyeball when she was only 1 week old, but that closed up pretty fast. Then she had an Ahmed implant put in to drain fluid via a tube into a self-release reservoir inserted onto the exterior of the eyeball. It's working but every now and then too much fluid will be produced and raise eye pressure. So, she has just had another TCP done this Monday to cut fluid production. Hope the effects of that will last a while longer than the previous ones.

NF1 is a progressive thing. She may develop tumours anywhere else along the nerves (inside the body or on her skin) later on. We can only hope they'll not be in dangerous places. She may have learning difficulties. Or she may not get anything more than what she already has. No one can tell since individuals vary a lot in how NF1 manifests. But she certainly will have to deal with the facial disfigurement all her life.

So far no problems with that other than us explaining to people that no, she didn't get involved in some accident or bad fall, she didn't get socked in the eye by a south paw, but is just "born like that". And people pity her and play with her, and then get charmed by her response, and realise that the disfigurement is irrelevant and simply enjoy her chubby little curly-headed baby-ness. It's heartening and quite a tickle to see how it always follows the same path of progression when people first meet her, to them saying bye-bye with some reluctance!

So, one day at a time. Oh yes, we recently managed to get downgraded to become subsidized patients at the SNEC where she is being seen for glaucoma, instead of paying full private rate. That means 50% or more savings, thank goodness, considering it'll be a lifetime follow-up. Another good thing is that she is now a happy camper when it comes to taking oral syrups from the syringe, even protesting when we take it away! Silly baby.

Just for the record.

Talking Tees

I found the following scribbled in pencil on the back of Old Navy clothing sizing charts I printed off the internet, in 2007! That means Sophie would have been about one (born in 2006, Year of the Dog), Sarah four, and Matthew six. No Rachel yet.

Sean: Can I eat bones? Am I a dog?

Sarah: No, you are not a dog. Sophie is the dog. She's the boss.

Matt: Ya, Sophie is the boss. One of her t-shirts says, "The Boss."

Sarah (to Matt): How can they talk?!

Ten Years

Ten years in the blink of an eye,
Ten years' worth of smiles and sighs.

Ten years building with God's bricks,
One and one make six!

Happy Ever After

So Rachel is now one. I thank God for all that has transpired this year.

Despite the NF1, or perhaps because of it, I believe we're overall happier than before. Now, nothing can happen to us that could be really bad. Even if it's anything conventionally viewed as terrible, it's all just part of life. Love carries on. We have every good thing we could possibly need. Anything else is a bonus!

The little baby is such a happy, sweet-tempered child. She crawls, claps, laughs, waves bye-bye. Loves chewing paper and cardboard. At one time I was sad that I might never find her the cutest baby in the world, because of the distortion caused by NF1, but I found myself recently unexpectedly asking S if he didn't think so!

We got her a little cake covered with pink chocolate shavings, and decorated with plastic toys like a Spider-Man figurine, a Miffy figurine, a coconut tree, a hot-pink flower with leaves, a strawberry, a gooseberry. Haha! It was so random, and tasted really good! Sophie went strictly for the shavings while the older kids disdained them in favour of the chocolate sponge. Rachel also had some of the chocolate sponge, and then went on promptly to her bedtime routine. She even managed to say "pome-pome," when we got her to try! Our little darling. So loved. I hope not "so spoilt" too, when she gets older.

Enny Wenny Werr

"Baa baa black sheep
Enny wenny werr
Yes sir yes sir tree blacks for

One for the monster
One for the day
Little boy sits in the tree all day

Baa baa black sheep
Enny wenny werr
Yes sir yes sir tree blacks for."

And Sophie really thinks she is singing it properly too!

"Can you tell me the months of the year, Sophie?"

"Jannery, Feddery, March..."

-------

"What did you eat at the party?"

"I ate cumcuber and sausage."

-------

"Go and change, Sophie."

"Oh, change into my uniform?"

"No, you're not feeling well so you're not going to school today."

"Oh, I'll stay at home and you will look after me?"

"No, I've to go to work."

"Oh, Aunty will look after me and I will look after Rachel and you will go to office?"

A Precarious Peace

I thought we were cool. About Rachel's condition and all. Just living life as it unfolds, going about our day to day things, appreciating the present and hopeful about the future.

I reached out to someone who also has a child with a congenital condition. We met briefly, and I received messages from her on my phone. She really wants to help. She told me about her grown-up friend with a similar condition as Rachel's, recommended another doctor, suggested I do what she did for her child to counter potential learning difficulties, such as put Rachel on a special diet, take her for spiritual healing sessions, and do a famous baby reading acceleration programme with her. This kind lady reiterated her suggestions a few times although I repeatedly tried to convey the message that we were not seeking additional help as such.

Boy was I surprised to find myself irrationally upset and in doubt after that short exchange. Perhaps this goes to the heart of every mom's fears, that she is not doing the best she can for her child. It has never occurred to me to flash any cards at Rachel. In the first place, I don't believe in those baby programmes. Other people are very welcome to go for them if they so wish. Not me.

But to have the recommendations so adamantly repeated, citing how doctors are shocked at her child's development (they were warned about mental retardation), bore down on me that I could in fact be short-changing Rachel by not doing all those things as well. It didn't help that I had very recently received news that I failed my exams, which means resitting them at the end of the year, upsetting all my other leave plans.

What better set-up for the bug that truly bit? Influenza! The last time I had it, I had just learnt that Rachel was on the way, and it raged for a week. Thankfully, this time round the fever went away after a single dose of ibuprofen. It did however leave me with hugely swollen eyes that gave great merriment to my children. Can't say there wasn't a silver lining to that cloud.

But I'm more thankful for the unexpected recovery of peace. There's nothing a few days of lying in bed won't solve, I find. There's only so much one can weep, or fear, or doubt, without growing suddenly tired of it and throwing it all off with a single resolution of the mind and heart. This being Holy Week is another "bonus" - everything united to the cross of Christ, whose yoke is easy and burden light.

The clincher was when I went back to work to find that big boss had been looking for me. Must be some work issue - he is well known to have exacting standards. No, it turned out to be nothing work related. Instead, having noted my sudden absence, he was actually worried that I might have been unduly upset by my exam results. He had even asked another partner to check that I was all right as he was going away on a business trip himself, which explained that unknown missed call number I found on my phone. I'm touched! And I'm not about to commit harakiri over a bunch of test scores, certainly - who's going to cut all the kids' nails if I'm gone??

Funny how people who come across as tough are often actually softies inside. Oh well. Time to put down deeper roots in faith and hope. Nice time, now.

Ford S-Max

Our reason for changing cars has always been to accommodate our growing family. So it was a MkI Focus sedan until we had 3 kids, and now with the fourth, the Edix had to go. Both cars had served us wonderfully for four years each, and would still be highly recommended for families of up to five and six respectively. But with helper in tow on weekends it meant one child had to be carried or sitting on the floor, neither comfortable nor safe solutions.

I had previously test-driven the S-Max (or Smacks as we like to call it) around two years ago, and immediately loved the way it drove. It reminded me of a grown-up Focus, whose steering and chassis I had missed when we switched to the Honda. Meatier, less delicate, but just as precise and responsive to inputs, it was stable and planted on straight roads, and a dream to corner. But at over $110k (then), I had to write it off as beyond my reach.

Fast forward to the beginning of February this year, and a few factors came together to prompt a decision. The Edix was nearing its fourth birthday, and while remaining utterly practical (I still cannot find another reasonably-priced, yet fairly compact car that seats six adults comfortably, along with a full Corolla-sized boot), it was, as mentioned previously, starting to strain from our family’s needs. Also, with 130,000km on the odo, bigger wear and tear costs were starting to creep in – I had already replaced a front suspension arm, and I suspected the wheel bearings were heading south as well. On top of these, COE prices were on the rise, in anticipation of the impending the quota cut, so if we were to make a change, it would have to be soon.

A 7-seater was a given, but which one? The usual suspects (Wish, Stream et al.) proved to be too narrow. We currently have a rearward-facing baby bucket seat, a pretty bulky toddler seat and two boosters – try any combination of these in the above cars and you’ll find them reduced to six-seaters with tiny boots. Infuriatingly, even the largest Japanese MPVs have benches for their second row, with the middle seat inevitably smaller than the outboard two, and given a token lap belt instead of a proper pre-tensioned three-point job. Looks like not all passengers are meant to be treated equal.

From there the choice became clearer. The Renault Grand Scenic, VW Touran and Citroen Grand Picasso all boast three individual seats in the middle row, but have much smaller boots than the Smack’s decent 285 litres, and there was no way in heck I’d live with barges like the Espace or Voyager on a daily basis. I’d sooner get a Vito.

Of course, a new Smacks was still pricey at a dollar under $100k (in Feb), while 2-year old examples, bought for nearly $120k, were going for around $80k. It made a lot of sense to buy second-hand, especially for a fast-depreciating, “non-luxury” conti brand like Ford. A quick check online confirmed two used S-Maxes for sale, a Trend and a Titanium. The Titanium was a few months older and had more mileage on the clock, but the dealer wasn’t asking for much more than the Trend, plus the OMV was a whopping $5k greater. Even ignoring the better trim level, it was looking like the better deal.

But what a trim! In the UK, 70% of owners spec their Smacks to Titanium, and it’s not hard to see why. 17-inch rims, auto-lights and wipers, double-moonroof, 8-inch information screen in the instrument cluster with steering-mounted controls, dual-zone climate control, cruise control, bi-xenon headlamps and cornering lights, auto-dimming rear-view mirror, two extra airbags for second row passengers, full leather seats, 8-way powered driver’s seat and powered-height adjustment for the front passenger. All this on top of the already not-impoverished Trend level.

Admittedly, some of these toys are less useful than others, but they are nice to have all the same, and even better with the minimal price difference between the two cars I was looking at. I was pleasantly surprised with the effectiveness of the rain sensors, one of the features I had originally written off as gimmicky. With the start-stop rain we’ve been having recently, it was comforting to have one less thing to have to keep adjusting on the move. And not having to take my hands off the steering wheel to control the cd player is pure joy. But no such luck with my iPod, which is connected to the lovely 8-speaker system via a simple coaxial input instead of data-readable USB.

A week into ownership, I was trawling through online reviews when I discovered from a photo that my very car was used by Straits Times for their long term test! This got me a little apprehensive at first, especially when I realized that at the end of its five month stay with them, it was sent to Sepang for a right thrashing. But then again, I believe mechanical parts are meant to be used (even used hard), and a comprehensive pre-sale inspection confirmed the car was still in excellent condition. On the flip side, being a press car meant that Regent Motors took particularly good care of it, right down to banishing the few squeaks and rattles that were reported. Thus far, the only cabin noises I hear come from my sunglasses in its holder and the child seats. It is otherwise a highly-refined and relaxing cruise. So much so that my second daughter seems to fall asleep on drives of even moderate distances.

At first glance, the Smacks appears to be Wish-sized, such is the illusion stemming from its tapered shape. Park the two side-by-side however, and the size difference becomes quite obvious, the Ford being around 5% larger in every major dimension except for height. The main benefits of the increased size are particularly noticeable in afore-mentioned boot space and cabin width. Believe me, that little breathing distance between siblings can make all the difference between pleasant journey and civil war.

One practical downside of its girth is a bus-like turning radius, large at 11.9m, but made borderline-unacceptable by the Edix’s tiny 10.5m effort. If those numbers don’t seem to mean much, I suggest you find a two lane U-turn and discover how significant that extra 1.4m can be. I blame the necessity to fit the Focus ST’s 2.5 litre 5-cylinder motor into the engine bay for the Smacks’ lack of parking maneuverability. Sure enough, the ST shares an identically-dismal turning circle.

Rather unfortunately, we don’t get that lovely turbocharged engine in Singapore, at least not in the Smacks. And the new fast but frugal 2 litre Ecotec will not arrive until later this year, so what I have under the bonnet is the 2.3 litre unit, closely-related to the one found in the Mazda 6. For a VVT, its headline figures (161 hp, 208 Nm) are not outstanding, but matched with a silky 6-speed auto gearbox with sport mode, the power is put down to the road very well.

Driven casually, progress is smooth and shifts near-indiscernible, with engine noise barely intruding into the cabin. Give the accelerator a stab however, and the gearbox will drop one or two notches, the engine note hardening up and sounding suitably sporty from 3,500 rpm onwards. You never feel the resulting surge, in terms of pure accelerative shove. But a glance at the sweeping speedo needle and relative velocities of adjacent traffic will convince you that you are beginning to travel rather quickly indeed. This deceptively-relaxed situation is compounded by the Smacks’ exceptional body control, which feels more tied down the faster you travel.

A short blast down Old Upper Thomson Road showed how its dynamic components – engine, gearbox, steering, suspension, brakes - come together so beautifully when showed a series of bends, it is truly more than a sum of its parts. Despite weighing close to 1.7 tonnes, the S-Max resists understeer and body roll in a fashion that would shame many hatchbacks with one-third less mass to carry around. The result is a real confidence in your machine, which in turn leads to better judgment and situational awareness. Ford’s engineers should be applauded for consistently instilling such crucial driving intangibles (and pleasures) into its mainstream cars.

As always though, the snag with enthusiastic driving lies in fuel consumption, and this engine is proving to be something of a drinker. The official combined figure is 9.7 l/100km (or 10.3 km/l), and while this number is certainly achievable, it takes a strong will, light foot and quick swapping into the higher gears. With average consumption staring at me from the large info display, I have learnt to avoid city driving as much as possible, and detest idling the engine for any time at all. But sometimes, just sometimes, the urge to open the taps to 5,000 rpm proves irresistible, and the bliss of the experience lasts right up to the point where I remind myself to drive like an uncle again.

So there you have it, our new old car. Hugely comfortable, hugely safe (9 airbags!) and at certain U-turns, just plain huge. It may not have a factory-fresh crispness, but at least I know its teething gremlins have been taken care of. Above all, it’s the right car for me at the right time, which is what matters most. I’m glad to be back with the Blue Oval.

Get Well Soon, Sophie

Little Sophie has a cough and low grade fever, so she can't stay over at her cousin's place with her older brother and sister. The poor thing cried when we left her to be put to bed by our helper.

When we got back the house was already dark. But she was still coughing in her room so we went in and she immediately sat up. "Hello Mommy hello Daddy."

She felt clearly warm to the touch, so I gave her some Paracet. As she snuggled back down, she asked why she couldn't stay at Natalie's house.

"You're not feeling well, Sophie. When you're well you can stay there next time."

"Oh, when I'm well I can stay at Natalie's house?"

"Yes."

"Oh, Auntie Sue Lin will wake us up? And we can have breakfast, and drink milk?"

"Yes."

In the darkness I could just about make out her smile and wide-opened eyes as she lay there imagining staying over, although here she was, left out of all the fun, sleeping on her big brother's bed as a consolation.

She said, "I'm happy that Kor-kor and Jie-jie can stay at Natalie's house."

Being Thankful

Matthew was given a Catechism class assignment: write down the things he's thankful for. He wasn't quite sure how to begin, so Sean asked him, "Well, what are the things that you're thankful for?"

Matt thought a while and said, "Wii?"

Sean replied, "OK... What are some things or people that if you didn't have them anymore, you would feel very sad? Say the TV. If you didn't have the TV anymore, would you be really very sad?"

"Ermm... not really."

"OK. What about Sophie?"

"Err... not really. She's quite naughty sometimes!"

"But if she wasn't around anymore, would you feel sad?"

"Ya."

"And Sarah?"

"Yes."

"Mommy and Daddy?"

"Yes."

"Auntie?"

"Yes."

"So, what are the things or people that you are thankful for?"

Matt thought a while. Then he said, "Wii?"

TGIF

because Thursday wasn't so good. Sarah went missing after school.

She was first discovered missing by the school bus driver who had been waiting for her in order to set off. School was alerted, I was alerted, my parents got alerted since they happened to be over at our place and school called there.

Half an hour of a lot of calling and messaging back and forth, keeping Sean updated and waiting for further updates and general high tension later, the school was able to tell me that she had been located at a childcare centre with another classmate.

This place is one kilometre and two main roads away from school! The two primary 1 girls had walked there all by themselves - that's like walking down the entire Orchard Rd from CK Tang to Centrepoint! This was the classmate's regular after-school-care place, but her parents normally took her there, and they too couldn't find her when they first went to school to take her. It was the centre who called the school to say that their ward had brought a friend along. I'm thankful they had the sense to report the appearance of a school kid who evidently was not on her usual way home.

So, both girls were brought back to school by the other girl's parents to give an explanation of what they were up to, and Sean went to school to get Sarah home since the school bus couldn't wait anymore and had left long ago.

Anyway. We didn't stop nagging until she went to bed. Even now, I still can't stop thinking about how she is once more the target of a more dominating child. Her classmate was the one who asked her to go with her, who pulled her to leave by another school gate, and even made Sarah carry her school bag for her along that one kilometre stretch! And this girl isn't even one of her usual friends. And Sarah, being the compliant, helpful child that she is, simply did as that girl told.

I don't think we'll be forgetting this in a hurry.