Kids can draw on anything. Isaac took one of my unwanted Nokia internal packaging boxes and drew on it. Loved the way he used the holes as eyes and drew the monster face around it.
He also drew Faith, his older sis on one side, himself, and Joy, his younger sis (you can tell it's Joy because she is drawn smaller than the other). All had big hands, which I found amusing.
Then on the last side of the box, a hairy-faced monster.
So much fun.
I spent a good four hours with Isaac at the bike shop on Saturday, because Dave, my buddy wanted to get the same Dahon bike as mine. I think I spoiled Dave letting him ride my modified one. And he insisted on getting Ergon R2M magnesium grips for his Curve.
Isaac was nicely occupied, drawing one moment, and pumping tires the next. I reckon he'd work for Loacker biscuits if he could. He got an ice cream treat from Uncle Jason, my friend who lives nearby. I let him have the ice cream as a reward for being such a good boy the whole afternoon with me. He is usually very manageable when he is alone with me, and tends to get a little more difficult only when his siblings are around. Must be middle child syndrome.
"Get him the cup kind," I told Jason, "It's less messy."
But Isaac came back with a Cornetto cone. Jason said Isaac insisted on the cone because it looked most like ice cream.
After a while, Jason muttered, "Ah, I now know why you told me get him a cone." We both laughed as I wiped Isaac's face, only to see new ice cream on his mouth as he licked his cone.
I thought I was being clever when I told Isaac, "Come, Papa, show you how to eat ice cream. Don't just lick the ice cream, son. It will take too long and your ice cream will melt. See? Papa bite the cone biscuit too!"
Biting a chunk off the cone destroyed Isaac's sense of symmetry because now, the top of the cone was not straight anymore. I didn't think of that.
He broke into tears and buried his face into my chest, upset at his cone being messed up by me. Mindful of his ice cream-stained face, I tried to comfort him and keep my shirt clean at the same time. No use. I had to let him cry and clean his face on my shirt at the same time.
Then I quickly said, "Papa fix it for you! Don't cry, ok?"
I nibbled around the cone to make it straight again, and showed him the reduced but neat cone. That made him happy again and he continued partaking of his treat.
Lesson learned. Don't mess with your kid's ice cream cone. Let him eat it the way he wants to.
On Sunday night, we went to the park opposite, and the kids played at the playground with Mommy and Auntie Ning, our maid. Isaac rode with me on my Specialized mountain bike, seated in the Bellelli child seat. Though we were just going round and round the tiny 400m track in the park, at jogging speeds, Isaac enjoyed the ride and even refused to join his siblings at the playground.
"You sure you don't want to go to the playground with Faith and Joy?" I asked, as we reached round 9 of our park bicycle ride.
"No, dowan. I want to ride with you."
And so we rode, round and round the tiny park, at 7kmh, the breeze caressing our faces. It was slower than my usual riding speed, but sometimes, you don't need to go fast to feel like you're flying.