One fine weekday it was, and, 'fine' here is defined as 'happy hours outside of the norm for Kamal, Khalish, and I'. After work, instead of the common Playhouse Disney, colours and sketch pads, slideshows on iPhoto, children's stories, and, selected escalator YouTube videos on iPhone, Kamal and I treated Khalish with a mall visit. Mainly for the real escalators. The boy was happy, and, that made a pair of happy parents, for hours.
Of course, Kamal and I did not prefer Khalish to be too hyped with his number one obsession. If you happen to be in the same car as us on the way to a place with escalators, you will hear the following conversation a hundred times:
"Khalish, kita guna escalator bila perlu saja, betul?"
"Betul!"
"Kita tak boleh main atas escalator sebab ada orang lain perlu guna, betul?"
"Betul!"
So, yesterday, the conversation took place again. I, the more verbal parent, reminded him how the escalator is to be used only when we need to be a level up or down, and, nobody should misuse it because that could be troublesome to other users. All the while, Khalish would agree with the facts. Yesterday, he surprised Kamal and I.
"Khalish, kita guna escalator bila perlu saja, betul?"
"Betul!"
"Kita tak boleh main atas escalator sebab ada orang lain perlu guna, betul?"
Silence.
Then, an excited voice.
"Mommy, Khalish pun perlu guna escalator, macam orang lain perlu guna!"
Great, my 2.7-year-old has learned word manipulation at play school.
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There were not many people in Alamanda last evening. For that, I humoured the little boy's wish to ride the escalators while waiting for Kamal to complete bills payment. Came dinner time, Kamal and I managed to lure Khalish to the outdoor area with the fountain, phew.
Hey, great time there, too. He ran and ran, sometimes from Kamal, most of the time, for Kamal. It made my wait for a vacant table at Sushi King worthwhile. Khalish insisted to sit near the conveyor system, yet, all the tables were occupied (thus the wait). There is a thing about such system that amuses him, eh. Back to the run and chase game, someone, who realised that his physical was no match to the bigger and taller man, used yet another form of manipulation to catch the opponent...
... and the former did not only catch the latter; he tamed the bigger and taller man, too.
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Moments later, a table near the conveyor system was available. Khalish, having been at Sushi King twice prior to this, quickly climbed onto the seat, refusing the usually favoured high chair. Yes, yes, him and any conveyor system are inseparable.
Since Kamal has had a big lunch with his colleagues at work, he volunteered to help Khalish with the sushi. Furthermore, he would like to know how true was my claim that Khalish loved Japanese food from the first time he tried it (that I did not manage to eat what I favoured because the boy kept saying "nak, nak" the moment the plates touched the table).
Now, Kamal believes.
I was full with gratitude for the decision to bring another friend along, namely Mrs Camera, because it would not be much joy if Kamal and I were the only ones to be able to witness Khalish's rare patience as he waited by the conveyor system for his favourite sushi. I quote Kamal, "he is at his best behaviour around a conveyor system; no cry, no word, not a single sound - just admiration." We suspected that he was not really waiting for a so-called favourite sushi - he was simply admiring the continuously moving belt.
We suspected so because he ignored the sushi he often screamed for, and, sat still, eyes fixed on the belt.
By the way, I am also thankful for Mrs Camera for documenting Khalish's first moment with wasabi. It started with my shout of "no, Khalish!" which was followed by a reach for his hand. Too late. A generous dollop of wasabi had melted on his taste buds by then. I gulped while finding assurance from my friend (Mrs. Camera) that he was fine. Kamal, who was about to enjoy his snack when the chaos happened, calmly offered a shocked Khalish a bottle of mineral water. Mrs. Camera did assure me that he will still have wasabi in the future, with her photos:
Right after that, he asked for more sushi. Kamal, the pure Japanese food enthusiast (a name I give to anybody who eats sashimi), was proud that Khalish did not cry from the incident. It was a generous dollop of wasabi, let me remind you. More sushi until the little boy himself announced "Khalish kenyang."
Did I tell you that Khalish and I went for a mother-and-son outing a day before the family outing? No? Kamal knew. I spilled the details to him. Same mall, same outlets. Khalish was not at his best behaviour (and I honestly had no expectation for that particularly), but, what mattered to me was how he only remembers the best memories from the outing.
"Mommy, seronok sangat jalan-jalan dengan mommy."
(Aye, he has a knack for bahasa Malaysia baku, thanks or no thanks to my preference for it as well.)
The point is, he remembers. The best memories. No matter how simple they could be.
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Apparently, Kamal wanted to be a big part of Khalish's best memories, too. Not only did he feed Khalish, he also led the boy throughout the rest of the escalator rides later. I, I took blind shots from where I stood, and, unconsciously wrote a bedtime story in my mind, somehow knowing how tired Kamal could be to take part in the storytelling session.
That night, my bedtime story began with "one fine weekday..."
