Finally facing the frightening task. To cut Marsh's (Marshmallow's) nails. Long overdue by at least 3-6 months! Inspiration came from A1's attempt on one (Yes, just one!) last night, while watching National Day Parade on TV.
So, how many people does it take to cut a rabbit's (Or at least Marsh's) nails?
Comfortably, four. … One to hug her, one to scratch her head and make her go "aaaaahhh…" and relax, one to hold my handphone light so that it shines through the nails, and one to perform the harrowing deed.
Still feasible, three. … Depending on the angle of the cut, the task of angling and balancing the handphone light tossed among the remaining three.
We made do with three.
Three legs and fourteen nails later (Four on each hind foot, five on front right, and one of five on front left), I decided the risk of getting nipped by a scared bunny was too likely. She had already tried a couple of times as we worked on the last foot, which happened to be a front one – too near Marsh's sharp front teeth.
Four more hare-rowing nails to clip … another time.
The only little bits of hard rabbit nail parts I managed to round up after the clipping.
Walking A1 to ballet, we bumped into a neighbour YY who “told me tales” of my youngest. Memorable “tales” I’m gonna drag out in my speech at her wedding some day!
Apparently, when Dad takes A4 to the playground, they sometimes bump into YY walking her dog Shadow.
One time, A4 excitedly went towards YY and Shadow, saying in her loud animated voice “I KNOW YOU!”
To which YY responded cheerfully with “I know you too!”
Then, still loud and witnessed by other kids and adults near them in the playground, A4 blurted out, “No, not you; I mean the dog!”
YY stood stunned, devoid of all dignity.
YY from Block 14 had already shared this story with me one morning a week or so ago. She was then taking Shadow for a walk when she saw A4 and I at the round-about pick-up point, waiting for A4’s school bus. The incident left a deep impression on YY that she simply had to share it with me again when we next met today. And I was all too happy to listen to her again. It’s such a classic real-life story of losing one’s dignity to, of all things, an animal!
I believe A3 was already casually taught the characteristics of mammals in earlier years, but he is certainly more aware of them now, now that he is in Primary 3 and officially studying Science as a subject.
Coming to the dining table to sit down to some Chinese New Year snacks, I felt cold. I wondered aloud whether it was the cool weather or just me coming down with something. My sweet darling A3 offered to feel my forehead for temperature. He did and remarked that it was cold.
A few moments later, he kicked off a short discussion, asking if there are animals whose blood is cold. I explained to him there are cold-blooded and warm-blooded animals. Gave him examples of lizards and snakes as the former.
He seemed to already know that mammals are warm-blooded animals cos the imp in him kicked in and he stated, “Boys and men are not mammals.”
“Because boys and men do not give birth to their young live.”
If you require explanation:
Females give birth; males don’t.
A long-lost Aussie friend living in the UK is back on Skype!
JR had contacted me a day or so ago and I had replied, not in real-time. This evening, she caught me online! After asking if it was a good time to call me on Skype, we finally got talking (Later that night or night after, S commented that both sides of our conversation sounded contrived. S knew it’s cos I was, as always, awkward on calls over the Internet. It makes me clam up, especially if the video is turned on. This time it wasn’t, but I was still awkward). The last time we met up, I was still a teen! Although we did correspond intermittently for a few more years after that.
The curious eavesdropper
After the call ended, A4 asked me who I was talking to. I explained it was my old Aussie friend who lives in England. I added the fact that she is a vet.
A4: What’s a vet?
Me: Animal doctor.
A4, in incredulous tone: Huh? If she is an animal doctor, how can she talk?!
2:37pm. Neighbour EL WhatsApped me a pix. Snake (Looks like a python) spotted at our estate’s exercise playground (the kids’ preferred play area compared to the kiddy playground cos the former has monkey bars, high chin-up / pull-up bars, balance bars, balance steps, etc).
4:22pm. Only just saw the message. Showed the boys as they were with me. Then I WhatsApped A1 and S.
A3 remarked a few times, “Why don’t they get someone to catch the snake?”
4:33pm. Same neighbour WhatsApped again. Pix of snake in cage and message “Caught and removed”.
A3 now says, “I wish I didn’t ask why don’t they get someone to catch the snake.” He regrets the removal of the creature.
9:37pm. On bus, on way home from after-class shopping. WhatsApped both pix and summary to Mom and Dad.
Night. We had gotten A2’s hamster Salmon’s branded Habitrail Ovo mansion more extensions. The Pet Lovers’ Centre at newly-opened JEMS mall had a member-exclusive opening promotion. A1 was a member.
On reaching home, which was pretty late, A2 and I proceeded to reconfigure Salmon’s cage to add on the connector parts I had just bought. In the midst or after, some (if not all) the kids and I talked about how wonderfully-huge Salmon’s cage was.
Soon after (I think), A4 was heard saying “So good! Salmon house so big”, something to this effect.
Next thing she said was “When I grow up, I want to be a hamster.”