The things we remember

It's strange, the things we remember.

I sometimes cannot recall what I did a day ago or worse, what I set out to do a few minutes ago. But I can remember with clarity my Lola's house.

I remember the clay-red tiles on the ground floor balcony, the books in Spanish at the 'library', the kalachuchi flowers that bordered the driveaway as well as the roses. I even remember Patsy, her dog, who we buried in the garden near the gate.

Avian freeloaders

My husband and I were tickled pink when we visited the Ark Avilon Zoo recently.

On the deck of the 'ark', there is a section where 2 african spurred tortoises are exposed to the sun, wind, rain and yes -- birds.

We saw that while the tortoises were munching away at their food, the birds were just as busy feasting on food that belonged to their reptilian brothers, since it was placed within the enclosure.

Father's Day

Father's Day started early for me, the mother. I went to the market early to get first dibs at the special boneless bangus. After having breakfast cooked, I had everything set up in the covered space in the front yard just to make things different and special.

By this time, the day's celebrant is up and appropriately appreciative. Halfway into the meal, the daughter remembers our "secret" and gives him her gift (which I bought) but which bears a card she made herself (at my prodding).

Daddy is feeling good about himself by this time and wants to take us out. He plans lunch around my daughter (of course, of course) so we set out for Eastwood City in Libis, Quezon City to be near the Ark Avilon Zoo.

Short of begging

We go to work using the same route everyday. So once I get tired of badgering my husband who does the driving, I look around.

I see legs peeking out from the jeep in front of us, a man on a bike beside us holding his helmet instead of using it, roadside cleaners all wearing navy blue shirts titled 'Pulis Oyster' - the definition of which still escapes me, and so many other things which I take for granted. I see them everyday.

No more bottle

Last June 3, my daughter announced that she would no longer drink milk from the bottle. It came as a surprise since we were still a few months shy from her 6th birthday (my target date) and more than a year away from her 7th (her negotiated target).

She'd lost her first tooth that morning and had apparently tried to figure out why. She decided that it was the 'dede' (our term for the bottle). And since she didn't want to lose all her teeth, she was going to stop.