Virtual will

Will
noun
A legal document containing instructions as to what should be done with one's money and property after one's death


I have been planning to get my will done for a while now. I am the paranoid type and am constantly worrying about Lyla's welfare should something happen to me before she reaches adulthood. I am also the lazy procrastinating type, rescheduling my appointment with the Public Trust a few times now.

The driving force behind me getting a will done is pretty much to state Lyla's legal guardians in her parents' place. It must be someone who loves her nearly as much as I, because there ain't gonna be no money coming with that kid.

It's an embarrassing truth. When the Public Trust person starts listing my assets and liabilities, and they excuse themselves, I know they'll be having a good laugh at the back somewhere at how unbalanced my will is. I will pretty much be delegating who will be paying my loans, and I don't even have a mortgage...kalofa e. Any takers?

So I had a good think about what I do have, that may not be Public-Trust-will-worthy, but nevertheless will need to be passed on to those who will truly appreciate them. And I have come up with this.

I, Bina, daughter of the Most High God, aged 21 years, resident of Windy Wellington, do hereby revoke all my former Wills that I made when I was a pimply teenager in Saoluafata. I declare this to be my virtual Will until I actually get around to making my real will.

I maintain good health (barely), and possess a sound mind (mostly).

I hereby bequeath the following items as specified:

A. Collection of rugby pics: I leave this to Sleepless. I know you will be presented with a big burden to steward such an important collection, but I trust that you will do everything in your ability to look at the pictures every day and night and will not spare your life to keep them safe.

B. My Springboks jersey: I leave this to Stella. I don't know anyone with such limitless fanaticism, and more deserving of this most treasured article of clothing.

C. My boss: I leave him to Coconut Girl. You deserve a boss that recognises and rewards your hard work, that will give you his parking spot when you are preggo and don't want to walk from the carpark way down the road (I think you will find this perk especially useful ... lol), that encourages high standards but sets these by example. Because you're worth it.

D. My trusty laptop: I leave this to Laura. The laptop is actually from work, so make sure you get to my house first and nick it. The only condition is that you must Facebook, blog and YouTube on a daily basis with this laptop. Difficult, I know. You must put aside all that socialising and extrovert activities you are currently involved with.

E. My binoculars: I leave these to Kuaback. They will come in use for your ... ummm ... "bird watching" at the beach. Please feel free to share your findings with your virtual friends.

F. My husband: Are you serious, I don't trust him to any of you crazies!!

As witnessed by my five or so blog followers this beautiful but chilly Welly day.
Long live the queens. Over and out.

Sponginess

Toddlers are sponges. The kind of sponge that absorbs only what it is NOT meant to absorb. And then chooses the best time to display their newfound knowledge/skill.

A few new characteristics Lyla showed today (thankfully in the privacy of our home)

Tact
I tried on a hat and asked "Baby, do you think I look good?" She looked at me, looked at the hat, paused, then said "Mummy, I don't like tea." Ha! Changing the subject when she didn't want to tell me that I looked like the cat in the hat's fat aunt. Nicely done. I will take credit for this trait.

Stealth
This photo says it all.

The hand with a mind of its own

Head looking directly at the TV, while hand pokes a hole in the glad wrap and creeps closer to the chocolate cake! So engaged is she in her covert role, that she doesn't notice me taking a photo. She probably (definitely?) got this from me too.

Delusion

I was looking through the Manu FB page and she sat down as well and had a look. This photo came up and I asked her "Do you know who this is?" She nodded. "Yes, it's Daddy!" I could not stop laughing. Now that was definitely NOT from me. No sirree. I hope she doesn't need glasses.


On a side note, anonymous blogging has been enabled. I didn't even realise it was a setting until a superstar wanted to comment as Anon to keep under the radar from the paparazzi.

Two much talk

The two-year-old toddler (or tiger-monkey-queen, as she calls herself) is at that stage where she is constantly learning new words and phrases. How do I know? Because she can't/won't stop talking. When I listen closely, what sound like a streams of gibberish to most (well, to all but me) are actually full sentences with meaning.

Example: On the drive home from work/daycare today, she said, "Mummy, Hengy adasad da donkey donkey I say Hengy a no reezana sked my Daddy say". I replied with, "That's a very good girl". Huh? Well, what she was saying was that Henry [her bestie at daycare] was scared of a DVD they watched called Donkey Donkey, so she told him "There's no reason to be scared" because that's what her Daddy tells her when she's scared.

On one hand, it's great being able to understand pretty much everything she says. As a Samoan raising a child outside Samoa, I'm a bit paranoid about the external influences on her upbringing. In Samoa, parenting is a more of a community activity. There is a more common sense of morals and beliefs, and people are not afraid to (or more like they just can't help but) scold or even physically discipline you even if you are not their child. At the very least, they will no doubt rat on you to your parents if they see you doing something they perceive to be wrong (and all the guilty-as-teens nod). Over here, parenting is a more of individual or couple's task. Sure, there are plenty of courses, books, blogs etc with information galore on the how-to's of parenting, but the actually "doing" comes down to you, the parent.

So getting back on track...I'm trying to encourage my daughter to talk to me, and at this early stage of her life, she does. Oh yea, she doesn't stop. Hopefully the communication channel remains open (and civil...lol) going into her early adolescent years. Especially since smacking has been outlawed in the land of the long white cloud.

But there are times, and there are actually quite a lot of these, when I want her to just stop talking. Like after work, cooking dinner and cleaning up after, I just want to be left alone with my laptop to spend a couple of mind-numbing hours playing Bejeweled. But no, she plops down next to me with one of her books, and says, "Mummy, you broke my book?". There was a little tear in the book cover. In my head I scream "Pleeeaaase, leave me alone!!!" I play my last (pre-smack) card. "Lyla, you tore your book, not I. You need to take responsibility for your actions and not lay the blame on others. That's not right, you must accept your mistakes, and make amends."

The tiger-monkey-queen looked at me. I could see her mind struggling to attach some meaning to the jumble that just came out of my mouth. It takes two seconds for her to accept defeat, clamber down from the couch and say "I go to my room". In my head - "Yaaaaaay!! Woohooo!". I shrug and say "Ok".