Museum of Children’s Toys and Little Trains

In the Museum of Children’s Toys and Little Trains live the forgotten fantasies of us adolescents. The bobbing motion of the white rocking horse, the colourful pieces of a jumbled puzzle, the scratched paintwork of little cars and little buses that have long lost their tires, and the whirring and clanking of metal wheels against little railway tracks compete with flashing planes suspended from the ceiling for the attention of buried memories. Memories buried beneath under the surface the realisations and worries of adulthood as we each grow older.

Aslan ran around the museum excitedly, his screams and babble audible throughout the museum. There was a time when I played with little model railways, and imagined myself taking long journeys to lands far, far away as the trains sped around and around along the same tracks. Each round taking me further and further away from the real world, and into a world of my own that is where everything is pretty and where imaginings are real. On Christmas Day when I was twelve, I was told that I am too old for toys. And I have never seen them since.

But Aslan returned the toys to me, and in a number of different ways. Ever since he appeared in my life, I would venture into toy stores again, even if it is just to look and see what kids play these days. And at times I would think to myself what I could possibly buy him that would capture his wandering little mind for more than five minutes. For the past week or so staying with him in his little bedroom, I am surrounded by baskets and baskets of colourful playthings that sometimes unexpectedly make funny music and queer little noises when you accidentally step on them. Aslan does not seem to be too interested in his toys, even though he is only 18 months. He seems to have more fun with the buttons on the DVD player, and with taking out the shiny discs and putting it in again. And then taking the disc out again, playing around with it with his pudgy little fingers, before dragging it on the floor. Of course, he does not yet understand what scratches can do to a DVD.

Joy is also to be had when he presses the on/off button while you are trying to vacuum. On. Off. On. Of. Again. And again. And again. I get annoyed and tell him to stop, but he does it again and again. I want to raise my voice, but seeing his big inquisitive eyes staring back at me, I cannot but think to myself that it is his nature to play, and try to find another way of getting on with my ‘adult’ tasks. The washing machine with its electronic display, dials and buttons is also fast becoming another one of his favourite ways to pass time. The wet floor that has soiled his trousers and sleeves, and the washing powder in his hair does not seem to be cause for concern for him. Was I as curious as he was at his age? Was I as intelligent as he is, or is sure to become?

And how Aslan loves to bathe! Getting wet is his gift to anyone who has the fortune of having to bathe him. And I have willingly accepted that fortune, knowing very well that my clothes will be soaked and my hair drenched after he has had his fair share of splashing and rolling around the bath tub like a fish in water. Seeing him enjoy sponging himself as he watches his baby shampoo bottle bob up and down in the bubbly bathtub makes it all worthwhile.

Who would have thought that he has grown so big? And his voice so loud, his screams so penetrating? More and more, he has a temper of his own. And when it pleases him, he can throw a tantrum by rolling around on the floor and crying his tears out one minute, and the next he can climb back on his pudgy little feet again, and run around the bedroom as if the hideous fit moments before were all a planned and well-enacted scene.

But strangely, when his mother is away, he becomes ever so quiet, ever peaceful. As if his fits of baby fury were all meant to torment his poor mother who’ s not had a good night of unbroken sleep ever since he was born. A mother’s consolation of hearing from strangers and friends that the boy in her arms is so cute and so beautiful. And that Aslan certainly is. And a mother’s joy that overshadows whatever havoc and (dis)stress the baby can possibly cause is in watching the child’s eyes slowly close as he rests his head lovingly on your lap.

It is a sight that even angels would vie to catch a glimpse of.

Home again

Kitty greeted me as I silently opened the door. She rubbed her head against my feet, and was the only one to welcome me back. Everyone else was asleep. After some nine hours of travelling it's nice to see a familiar face, even if that's of your pet.

The train pulled away from Strasbourg, and I sat alone in my cabin. It took a while to realise that I'm leaving, after the last two weeks having passed like two hours in my mind. As the train sped into the hilly landscape of Alsace, I wondered when I will return again.

Sometime soon, that's for sure. When I first visited Strasbourg on that high school trip, I was but an innocent boy of fifteen. Walking around the old city, neck sore from staring at the soaring cathedral, little did I know then that my feet would take me back there, again, and again, and again. Perhaps I have a special bond with the city, and undoubtedly it will only grow stronger as Sunny grows older.

It was strange to see Sunny after almost half a year. He stared at me, and turned to hug his mommy by the legs, scared as if he had seen something frightening. I tried to reach out, to touch his little arm, but he pushed me away. It was a little gesture, but meaningful one, and one that made me somewhat disappointed. He had forgotten me, I thought, after all that we've been through together, after all the times I've been there for him and his mommy...

But soon enough, Sunny and I reconnected... more and more, with each passing day. Perhaps it was through the nightly baths that I gave him, during which I always end up being soaked from the splashes and kicks he makes, or perhaps it was the little cuddles I give him whenever he climbs over me in the morning and giggles in my ear to wake me. Whatever the reason, he didn't see me as a stranger any more, and that is a warming feeling.

It's funny how a baby can touch you so, and each time I visit him, I realise the power of his very being, and what an affect he has on me. Before he was a fragile being, so frail, and couldn't even sit up by himself. This time, he was crawling all over the place, and at times even daringly discovering the art of walking on his feet. Before, the world was whatever he saw from his pram or from the arms of his mommy. Now, the world was wherever his little hands and little knees could bring him. Before, he played with stuffed animals and cute little baby toys. Now, anything and everything could be a potential plaything. Which makes the world an exciting but also dangerous place.

A couple of times he hurt himself, bumping into cupboards, getting his little fingers stuck between in the doorway, chocking on toothpaste, and even swallowing a coin. But nothing seemed to take away his energy and life. Buddhism talks about living in the present moment... well for a baby life is really "here and now"... his needs, his curiosity, his movements, his cries, screams... all reflectinng what he wants there and then. Unlike grown ups, who fret and dwell in the already-gone past, and worry and prophesise about the unknown future, causing themselves unnecessary suffering and pain in the process. There's really a lot you can learn from a baby. Only a shame that most people tend to dismiss a baby as just a baby.

Coming back, to work and to my studies, I feel like I'm missing something in life, something I've left back there. But then again, I feel refreshed and full of life, because I've been able to see and feel life in its prime, in baby Sunny.

A night of you and me

You played with my, lips, brows, fingering them ever so softly, exploring each and every surface of my face like it was a new world waiting to be discovered. All the while, your big brown eyes stared into mine, with a look of curiosity, a look of familiarity at the same time. I stroked your soft little arm as your stuffed clown chimed out a lovely lullaby. Sleep, Sunny, sleep…

It’s been quite an evening. Mummy went out to the cinema on her own, so it was just the two of us. At first I doubted I could cope, and I was sure minutes after mummy left out the door you’d burst into tears. But mummy deserved some time alone.

You crept around in the kitchen and let out random shouts and screams. Not ear-piercing or irritating ones, but soft and cute ones that I replied to with calls of my own, as I fixed dinner for the two of us. Each time you called, I called back, only to be answered by an echo of my call, as you tried to imitate me. The kitchen filled with the fragrant smell of sizzling garlic and fish, as the call of a baby and a twenty-something pretending to speak baby.

You’re never choosy when it comes to food, and whenever your little Winnie the Pooh spoon took into the air, laden with fish and vegetables, your little mouth opened automatically, waiting. Dinner was quick, and the setting sun lured us out. Or perhaps just me, because you had no choice but go wherever I went.

We strolled down the riverbank of the Ill, in the shade of trees and occasionally feeling drops of water on our heads that were too heavy for leaves to carry. The ground was damp and puddly from the storm shower before, but the rain had stopped and the sky was beautifully dusk orange. I pushed you along, and sometimes you’d turn your little had to stare at me with those big eyes, perhaps silently asking where we were going. I too had no idea.

Pebbled jumped beneath the wheels, and twigs snaps under my feet. I’d pretend we’re a plane about to take off, and charge for a distance and all of a sudden lift up the front wheel, while at the same time make the sound of a roaring engine. You burst out laughing and giggling and waved your little arms up and down from the excitement. I smiled, and you smiled back.

Towards Petite France we went, down the alleyways and cobble stone road of ancient Strasbourg. Passer-bys would turn and stare, and on their faces you could see the temporary delight that your presence brought to their lives, even if only for a fleeting moment. And I enjoyed that feeling, of being mistaken as the proud dad of such an adorable little baby. It was as if for those moments walking around with you the world was fooled into believing that I am not so alone after all. And that’s a warming feeling.

Coming home, you were already fast asleep. I didn’t want to wake you, but it was time for your bath. You sleepily stirred from your sleep, rubbed your eyes and stood there in the bathroom, yawning, gaping, and drowsily wondering what was happening. But as soon as you saw the bath water running, you immediately lit up and wanted to climb in. you turned to me, with big eyes begging. Once in the tub you splashed around like a duckling exploring. What you liked most was the shower, and that strange feeling as it hit your skin. What joy! What fun you had, as I felt my sleeves and pants get soaked in the waves of water you splashed all over me.

In bed, you jumped around, up and down, wriggling to the rhythm of the children’s music playing in the background. I tried to put you down and to sleep, but you kept on sitting up and wriggling like a restless worm. The colourful musical clown lay at your feet and I pulled on the cord. A soft lullaby echoed in the air. It was as if it captured your heart, and calmed it down. Sleep, Sunny, sleep…

I covered you with the blanket, and lay down next to you. For a minute or two, you fumbled my face and cheeks, at first quickly and excitedly, but as the lullaby played on, your eye lids fell, further and further each time. You rubbed your tired eyes, the same eyes I stared into and saw my own reflection. What did you see in me, what did you feel in me?

Yawn.

Slowly your eyes close, heavier and heavier as the lullaby lingered…

Sleep, Sunny, sleep…

Birthday boy

Mommy cried on your birthday, Sunny. You looked around, in a room of strangers, in a world waiting to be explored, innocently clutching a little piece of cake in your tiny little hands and fingers.

Happy birthday, Sunny!

Visitors from near and far came to celebrate and rejoice in your first year of life, as a baby, as an angel in the hearts of many. The furtherest came bearing gifts and good tidings from a low-lying land far, far away. But it was worth every hurdle and peril along the way, if only to see you smile.

Truth be told, it was less merry before you were born. Mommy was frightened, scared like an unsure child you sometimes are herself, and worried that she wouldn’t be able to bring you up all on her own. But she managed, not only to give you all the happiness and health in the world, but also the one thing that are missing in the lives of others: a mother’s deep and undying love. That’s why Mommy cried when you innocently sat in your chair while everyone else sang, and while colourful balloons flew like flighty butterflies all around the room. Birds sang outside on this bright, bright day. The day Sunny was born.

Joyeux Anniversaire, Aslan!

We looked at pictures of you, from the day you were born, to the day you took your first little step a few days ago… How small and fragile you once were, and how lively (and loud) you can be now! Never a dull moment, always a source of warmth and light to the lives of so many around you. It shows in the way you call out, in that sweet little intelligible baby babble, and in the way you crawl, crawl, crawl around the house on all fours like a little puppy in search of the next curious little thing to grasp or chew on. You may fall, and you may hurt yourself, but each time after the tears wash away the pain, you continue on your journey, grasping, chewing, crawling and discovering.

At first you were shy, and had forgotten the face and embrace of this foreign looking giant. But the more I changed your nappy, the more I fed you bits of food, and the more I let you splash me all over with water in the tub, the more you warmed to me… and me to you. Deep inside, I cannot but feel a little ashamed that though I’m supposed to be your godfather, I can’t be there to share with you the many first experiences of your life. I know I haven’t been there much for you, and most likely will miss important moments as you grow up, but your life has brought many blessings into mine. And somehow, you manage to take away that guilt, and transform each touch of our fingers, each moment of our time together into priceless memories I wish could last forever.

It’s those big brown eyes of yours, those podgy red cheeks, those wisplets of soft brown hair hanging down your forehead, and those adorable dimples that often appear when you stare into my eyes… It’s the way you look, act and move that help me to rediscover the priceless sense innocence and purity that people loose as they grow older, and supposedly wiser. You show me in the subtle way you rub your cheeks against mine, in the gentle way you snore at night that there is a wonderful, indescribable feeling thing as love with powers I never knew existed.

I gave you a kiss on the forehead, and hugged you. I whispered in your ears, and silently prayed in my heart, for your wellbeing, and for your future. The world awaits. The others chatted and were all full of praise of how beautiful, how sweet, and how cute you are. Though it was your birthday, we must also remind ourselves of the mommy behind you, who has been there for you always and everyday and night since your birth, and who will be there always, every time and every where throughout your life. The mommy who you cling to, the mommy you cry for, the mommy whose stomach you like to bounce around on... and the same mommy who gives you the very love and affection that is the source of your warmth.

You looked on, surprise and excitement in your eyes, as you flapped around your arms, revealing the six little white teeth that you had already sprouted. Mommy continued to sob. They were tears of joy, tears of relief, and tears that a mother would shed seeing his little boy grow and grow.

小太陽, 生日快樂 !

May you have such an effect on many more people who have the fortune to cross your path as you older, and wiser. May you always retain that air of innocence that surrounds you now, always live in peace and happiness by being true to yourself.

May you always be a source of warmth and light to yourself and others.

Not so Sunny

I just chatted to my mum-friend, who's been having some rough times lately. She told me how my god-son Sunny has been acting really unruly and needy lately, and how she's been having a tough time coping. Like last night for example, he cried and cried for two hours non-stop for some reason, and they rushed to the hospital only to be told by the doctor that nothing is wrong. My friend felt somewhat upset, felt like nobody is taking her seriously and that people think she's over-reacting.

I listened to her, and gave her what little advice I know about babies. Sunny's been not himself lately, and has been really difficult, wanting to be held constantly, throughout the day, and night as well. My friend studies during the day, and the nanny takes care of the baby. When my friend comes home at the end of the day, she takes Sunny home and takes care of him till the next morning, day in, day out. Problem is in the past few weeks Sunny's been not wanting to sleep at night, which means my friend is unable to get much sleep as well. It's hard enough to do a master level study, so just imagine how it is having to master taking care of a new-born all on your own.

I sympathise with her completely, but somehow I feel however much I feel for her and her predicaments, however much I care and say that I care, it's still too little to help. All I can be is a listening ear, and a soothing voice telling her that it's all going to be alright, and little more. And deep inside I feel guilty that I can't be there and do any more to take away the stresses and strains on her.

I really wish I could do more... more than just silently wish them peace and harmony.

Toys

I know he's not my son. But I love him like I've not loved anyone for a long, long time. And I don't love easily.

After studying today I went into town in the evening. The shops were still open, and I wandered around a bit, into a few department stores. Strangely, I seem to become interested in the baby section, something I never even would have thought or considered visiting. Before Sunny was born that is.

And I wandered into a toy store, stayed there for a while, glancing around, looking at toys. Something I've not done for a long time. I was reminded of the toy I bought Sunny two weeks ago... the one that got stolen, but I managed to buy again. Somehow it didn't matter how much it cost, and even though I spent the money twice, watching him play and enjoy it was worth it. Worth a whole lot more.

I stood at the baby section at the toy store, deep down wondering what I could get him next.

Deep down, thinking he deserves what I did not have.

Home again

(For more pictures, go here!)

I'm going to miss the way he hugs me. The way he makes babbly baby sounds close to my ear, and most of all, I'll miss falling asleep next to his soft, warm breathing.

Maybe Sunny will wake up and wonder where that 'stranger' went. The one who's been bathing him, pampering him in the last couple of days, and picking him up into the air with his arms spread wide open like a free, soaring bird.

How quickly the last couple of days went. Unwillingly, I left Strasbourg at sevenish in the morning, when the rest of the world seemed still sound asleep. It was freezing cold, and though it hasn't snowed yet, the damp dew covered the forests and meadows outside the window with a coating of white. A winter wonderland, full of magic, full of surprises.


I didn't do much actually, besides eat and take things slow and easy. I did some shopping rounds for my friend, at the usually 'hyper-market' Auchan, and even popped over to Germany to store up on baby food and diapers. The little town of Kehl doesn't have much attractions to visit, but prices are sometimes half that compared to France. I even found the play-thing I wanted to get Sunny but got stolen in Brussels. His mum was overjoyed when she saw what I bought (again!), since it was exactly what she had been planning to buy as well.

After a half-hour of assembly, the baby-gym was ready, and Sunny was put to the test. It's quite a fun toy, he seemed to love it the moment he got his eyes and hands laid on the animated figures and stuffed animals suspended on an arch in mid-air. I watched him play, giggle and fidget with his hands and legs. In his cute little outfits, he looked so innocent, so vulnerable, yet somehow seemed to radiate with such life and love.


Though all of that didn't make the thoughts of two looming exams and a paper due next week go completely away. Even though I had my books with me, it was only until this morning in the train that I started studying. But pub-crawling with my friend last night meant instead of absorbing the cases and judgements, I was more absorbed by sleep. With beautiful thoughts, of a beautiful baby I was leaving behind.

Arrived in Brussels around noon, and to be frank didn't feel like going home (just yet). It's really been a while since I bought anything for myself. Funny, the moment I walked through the door a few days ago, my mum-friend immediately noticed how 'smart' I look, and how firm my bum had become since we last met... I blushed, but then again she really is someone who knows the latest about fashion. Bright colours and accessories like a scarf and trendy belt, she's being saying to me ever since we've known each other. With that in mind, I ventured the streets and shops of Brussels and decided to be good to myself for a change. One shop had the slogan:

"Your clothes say who you are. What do you want them to say?"

Confident. Secure. Warm. Approachable. Lovable. That's what. As my wallet got a bit lighter, I could feel my lugguage and self-confidence get a bit weightier. Bought a couple of sweaters and jumpers, one pink, one snow-white with light horizontal green stripes, and another orange. And my tattered trousers I traded in for two pairs of slick, slim-waist jeans. I was smiling. It's almost the new year, and I guess it's time to make resolutions (again), to be more outgoing and self-loving. As much as I believe it's what's inside that matters, clothes do help.

The rest of the journey home was hectic. Again, like so many times before in Belgium, the train had problems and simply got cancelled. So hundreds of other passengers heading towards the Netherlands had to haul their lugguage up and down platforms, change and transfer and run and wait in the cold until finally after an hour a replacement train service came. It was packed, and I ended up riding two hours sitting by the door between two carriages, next to the toilet. It was loud, smelly, and there was no central heating.

But soon I was home again.