Saffron rice

Saffron was picked up from Thomson Grove relatively early today, just as one of her new 'favourite' programmes was starting - which prompted a mini-tantrum ("I want to watch my Chinese serial!") that was only placated by an offer to take her off to a playground for horseplay ("Okay. So can I bring my bucket and spade?")

As we got in the taxi, the appeal of hanging out at dusk in a mosquito-infested playground began to wane for me, and so I began to cast around for alternatives. MRT ride; carousel; watching fish in an aquarium; shopping; eating sushi; early bedtime; bubble bath; watch a DVD - all were flatly rejected in favour of the climbing frame and malaria. Until the mention of the magic word - poppadom.

And lo and behold 20 minutes later (we were heading downtown on the CTE in the opposite direction to the rush-hour traffic) she was leading me in to Shahi Maharani, the greatest tandoori restaurant east of Chalkwell.





The waiters, none of whom she recognised, were as pleased to see her, as she was to see a plate piled high with poppadoms greet her arrival to the table. Her fascination in a passing hotplate of sizzling curried lamb then prompted her to say (surely with echoes of Little Britain) "I want that one!", and before you could mutter 'A Passage to India' she was happily making saffron rice ("My rice, right?") sandwiches with her roomali roti.

After an enjoyable but futile attempt to finish all the food we'd ordered, we waved the white flag, swiped the plastic, and bounced our way to the nearest taxi rank, before heading for home - whereupon Saffron was as pleased as punch to find that the lift lobby of our apartment block had been decorated right out of Dream of the Red Chamber: "Just like my Chinese serial!" she squealed.

K2

Our little intrepid climber rose early this morning, despite my best attempts to exhaust her yesterday. After a quick rub-a-dub-dub and tickle-fight, we assembled our supplies, packed our rucksacks, and made last minute checks to our equipment (the buggy) before heading off for base camp at Tanglin.

Saffron insisted on a hearty brunch of "fish and chips" prior to tackling her climb, and although aghast that the chips were substituted by potato wedges ("Chinese chips, Daddy?") our meticulous planning paid off when the aunty at Paddy's Fish said they had no brown sauce. The fact that we had packed our own was celebrated with high fives all round.





And then all that remained was the tricky ascent of the North Face of Tanglin, at Gymboree. Although the initial ascent was tentative, with periodic cries to her accompanying sherpa of "Help! Help! I'm very scared!" - Saffy quickly grew in confidence, if not in technique. By the end she was clambering Tarzan-like over every barrier, and it was me who was 'very scared' as she tottered precariously above it all.

Balls

Breakfast was intended to be a civilized affair of hot coffee, croissant and orange juice, accompanied by the morning papers and perhaps a little bit of doodling with marker pens. I failed to appreciate the appeal of the nearby 'Old Chang Kee' stall, peddling coronaries on sticks - and within minutes of reading the football pages, Saffron was tugging at my pocket trying to get my attention. Or so I thought. Actually she was trying to coax my wallet from my pocket, in order for her to go and place her order for deep fried starch on her own. It's called pick-pocketing, and in earlier times they'd have carted the little artful dodger off to Australia for something like that. But a pretty girl can be forgiven for most things, so instead she was rewarded with two sticks of fishballs.

After she'd eaten, but before I'd managed to finish reading about the Gooners, she started rifling through the pages of the 'Life!' section of Strait Laced ... for a horrible moment I thought she was reading one of Sumiko Tan's vacuous columns, and was therefore relieved to see Saffy poring over the cinema pages. We ended up compromising on 'Night in the Museum' (PG), after she'd initially been drawn to some naff Jap horror show ('Death Note 2', certificate 18) on the basis that one of the characters looked like a skeleton (Saffron has a thing about skeletons. The most optimistic spin on this is that she wants to be a doctor. However the more negative amongst us worry that she's going to be a goth chick by the age of eight).

Happily there is a fossilised dinosaur in Night in the Museum, which seeing as Saffy likes skeletons and dinosaurs (preferably gummy sweet ones), managed to swing it for Ben Stiller and friends. And so we wandered over to Cineleisure where she was introduced to the joys of popcorn (salted), as well as 'love seats' at the back of a half-empty cinema. As the final credits rolled, Saffron indignantly asked why the film had ended ... and the lights came up to reveal the budding film critic becalmed in a sea of crushed popcorn.



A few errands and a snooze later, and she was raring for more action - which was just as well as we had agreed to meet with Uncle Tim to watch the Lions take on mighty Vietnam at the National Stadium that night. Dressed in our finest red Arsenal livery, Saffron and I were disappointed to see that Singapore was actually playing in blue, and that it was the Viet supporters who were decked out in red. Still, she did her best to revive the 'Kallang Roar' during the game, even if she was more interested in the linesmen (they have flags). Following a thrilling 0-0 draw, maybe she had a point.

Child labour

Desperate times call for desperate measures. With Singapore's tight labour market, declining birth rate, and unseemly scramble for graduate talent, Saffron was head-hunted for the day by an ambitious SME looking for a few good three-year olds.



The cleaning lady will be in for a shock come Monday morning, and Saffron seems to have persuaded everyone to dig deep and buy her gummy sweets in the absence of close parental supervision when I was out on sales calls, but she seemed to amuse herself with (almost) more whiteboards than she could shake a marker pen at, and all the stationery an aspiring artist could wish for.



Still, after eight hours of terrified screams (my colleagues) and whoops of delight (the puppet mistress), I can see why child labour has been phased out of all advanced economies...

The new look

What a little beauty ... today she managed to cram drawing on the windows in the bedroom (relax: in water soluble market pens); speeding up to Christ the King for several sprinkles of holy water and singing hymns (not always the right ones) with Tiffany, Por Por & Kong Kong, followed up by lunch; before racing back to Novena for a quick ride on an elephant, and then reading lessons with her new teacher, Mrs Komala; and on to the above haircut; and then a spot of shopping on behalf of Mummy; before making it back home in time to kiss Daddy goodnight and fall asleep.

Here's the little artist pretty much at the crack of dawn ...



I used all my powers of persuasion on Tiffany to persuade her to ride shotgun with Saffy on the elephant ride ... though in truth I suspect the Tiffster was more disappointed than Saffy when the five minutes atop Nelly the Elly was up (see below).



But the highlight for me, Saffy and I suspect you ... is the new hairdo. Fortunately the hairdresser ignored my instructions about the length to cut Saffy's locks (admittedly not my forte) ... and the results speak for themselves (see first photo, and her in the middle of getting her barnet cropped below).

A little and a lot

Having failed to follow through on vague plans to kidnap Natalie's passport, and thereby extend Mummy's stay in Singapore, Saffron spent her day cleaning, packing, shopping and singing - further demonstration (as if any were needed) that she is very much Natalie's daughter.

As Mummy disappeared into a very blue sky, Saffron strode off to the MRT, bosom thrust forward, lefthand tugging along imaginary luggage, and hips swivelling a-la SQ stewardess, along with Aunties Val and Tiffany, and Daddy.



The train ride into town was enlivened by a rendition of 'Castle in the Clouds' (Les Miserables), along with several encores. After which we got off at City Hall to be fleeced blind over a new camera, so that you lot can see what Saffy gets up to here in Singapore.

We made a beeline for sushi, with Saffron insisting that her tummy was very noisy having had little to eat since a dodgy tummy the previous day.
Saffron: "I want so much sushi, Daddy. And then after that I want fishballs too. And orange juice."
Daddy: "That all?"
Saffron: "And fizzy water."



This has been Saffy's third Sakae Sushi this week. She's going to smell of fish by the time CNY comes along...



Saffron was so impressed by the natty uniforms of the Cisco auxiliary police as we went from Sakae Sushi to Bras Basah Complex for art card, pens and pencils, that she announced (loudly enough for passers by to stop and gawk) that she wanted to be a soldier. Why? "Because I want to shoot the bad men."

She's pictured above saluting whilst shooting someone (presumably her superior officer?) with her gun.



A rather pleased Saffron contemplates all the creative activities she's going to get up to with her new box of rainbow-coloured Faber-Castell pencils. There's a lot of blank white walls in the apartment afterall, surely too many for her liking.

After opening up the pencils, but before putting them to creative use, Saffron started yawning and suggested we all (me, her, all her cuddly toys...) go and chat in bed.
Daddy (hopefully): "You're a little tired?"
Saffron: "I'm a little bit tired. But I'm a lot awake."

Fast forward two minutes, and it's good night from Saffron for today ...