Apple Of My Eye

I didn't quite believe it, but I spent nearly three and a half hours waiting in line for my Apple 3G iPhone. Yup, I caved in to greed and first-class American-styled marketing.

So, there I was, standing behind 20 other adults, clearly tired from the working day. My eyes wandered, desperately trying to find something to focus to make the waiting less painful. As you can probably imagine, some shop that specialises only in Apple products, conveniently located right next to Singtel, where throngs of zombie-like consumers stare at more Apple products.

"I... must... have... that..."

Anyway, the 20-inch Mac monitor demo'ed the latest Sims2 game pack called Castaways. Normally, if you're cast on any deserted island with no broadband access, you are as good as dead. But somehow the characters in the game look very happy. They also miraclously picked up hunting, house-building and other survival skills that soldiers take months to learn. Hmm... "Where got in dire situation still so happy?" Not realistic at all, crappy game (unlike COD4, ha!).

Hmm... standing in line for 20 freaking-minutes and haven't moved an inch (pretty dire if you ask me), and I'm happy because there's only 20 more jokers in front of me. Hmm... maybe the pain is not that bad if the end-game is worth it.

So, back to my main topic. Not the Apple iPhone. My son, Elliot, the apple of my eye. My wife and I are first-time parents. And I'll be honest, we are not very good at it. There is no amount of preparation that will set you up to be a good parent. But luckily, Elliot's been pretty forgiving so far.

He cries for no apparent reason every now and then. Well, actually, there's always a reason, it's just that we don't know it yet. Babies work in mysterious ways, as do God. So, every cry is answered with some apprehension, a dash of suspicion and a whole lot of confusion.

Just two weeks ago, we thought he is a colicky baby. Then we were pretty sure he has a condition call reflux. Last week, we were convinced he had hernia. Of course, every "ailment" meant a trip to the paediatrician, which in term meant "ka-ching" for the old man dressed in the white robe. On all occasions, our suspicions were wrong. Our baby was a normal, healthy, little bundle of joy. The old man's "he's fine" cost us $65 each time. Of course, we grumble and curse at ourselves for being such ka-jiong parents, but under our breaths we know it's money well-spent.

Elliot is getting stronger every day. He surprised me the other day by lifting his head while lying my chest. I thought it was a one-off event, but he went on to push and position himself to the obviously more "cushy" region of the tummy. Are one-month old babies supposed to do that?

Speaking of one-month old, we shaved the little man bald. We did it for a few reasons. One, the symbolic act is supposed to represent something; two, his hair was too long; and three, he was shedding his baby hair. We spent $7.50 at the Indian barber outside our estate. 10 minutes and an electric clipper later, he was botak. But he's definitely has our hair genes though. It grew within two weeks, and the texture was quite coarse. Not like sandpaper coarse, but definitely not Clairol silky soft.

First month has been tough, and I mean for everyone in the family. Bowel explosions, urine fountains, leaky teats, tempers flaring, sore necks, sleep deprivation, piling office work, zero social life, aching shoulders, the list goes on.

The pain is not that bad because the end-game is worth it. We can't wait for the second month.