I was naturally outraged. Later I wrote to my friend about the folly of mass forwarding such a warning with explicit photographs. I understood that her intentions to warn others were good but it would have been better to do so (just the words of warning, if at all they are true) without the photos. Better still, send it to the management of the theme park for verifications or as a complaint.

Firstly, we are really not sure if the photos were taken at the said theme park. However, if they were really taken there, the humiliation suffered by the two girls is already enough. The photos are still circulating through no fault of theirs. I can’t bear the thought that one of those girls could have been me.

So, if we continue to forward such photos, then we are just as guilty, if not more, than those peeping toms cum photographers. Why should we continue to support these perverts? By doing so, we have become agents of pornographic material.

Some years ago, a friend forwarded some horrific pictures (with a title like “Social Injustice” or something like that) of young Chinese girls being raped, murdered and mutilated by another ethnic group in South East Asia during the late 1990s. I was in a state of shock for hours.

I felt raped, invaded and violated just by looking at the pictures. It took me quite awhile to regain my composure.

Photos are very powerful medium. They are powerful imprints in our minds. As I have often been told my play therapy supervisor, “If you are not part of the solution, don’t be the pollution”. In this case, if we cannot stop the unwholesome actions of others, we can take the proactive step in halting the circulation of such material.

Two minutes later, he had removed his pyjamas on his own and he asked what he could wear for the day. I remarked that he was indeed growing up because he could do so many things by himself.

“This calls for a party. We should celebrate all the things you can do by yourself, ” I said spontaneously.

“A party? When?” he asked excitedly.

“How about after breakfast? Go pick up something you would want to wear at a party,” I replied.

Before I could get going with my routines of washing up, he paraded in my view in his chosen attire. He had dressed himself in his favourite Ben Ten T-shirt and a Power Rangers shorts.

“Wow, you can dress yourself so well. I am so proud of you. Go have your breakfast and the party will begin as soon as I return from the market, okay?”

“Okay!” he turned and shot off.

My husband was listening to this conversation and was concerned if I could really carry out the task. I told him not to worry because I usually have some party tricks at home; balloons, special sweets, bubbles, etc.

Later in the morning, my boy and I spent about an hour blowing up balloons and playing with them, ate our sweets, played with some playdough and made a video recording of him singing some songs he had learnt in school. We also spent some time making a card for his school in conjunction with its 14th anniversary.

It was a well spent morning. My boy enjoyed himself immensely and I shared in his joy as well. By rewarding him with a simple activity, his self-confidence has soared up a notch. Prior to this morning, I have taught him to dress himself through small, achievable steps. But before I could show him how to remove his slip-on pyjamas, he has figured it out himself.

M.E.P. Seligman (1995) in The Optimistic Child says, to teach children optimism and a sense of being worthwhile, we need to teach them to solve problems rather than turning away from difficulties. He offers some guidelines which include:

• Don’t solve every problem for your child;

• Once you give your child space to solve his own problems, you must not be overly critical of his attempt;

• Model a flexible problem-solving strategy yourself.

The last point is crucial because Seligman reminds us that on the other side of the coin, pessimism in children is not inborn. “Nor does their pessimism come directly from reality. Many people living in grim realities: unemployment, terminal illness, concentration camps, inner city, remain optimistic. Pessimism is a theory of reality. Children learn this theory from parents, teachers, coaches and the media, and they in turn recycle it to their children. It falls to us to break this cycle.” (pg 51)

My childhood friend, Rayvathy never failed to say “I will go and come back” in Tamil to her mother as she walked with me to school. In reply, her mother would say, “Go and come back.” I heard it so often, I could still say those phrases over 20 years later. It seems an appropriate way to say good-bye. Although I have never taught it to my children, for some reason, my four-year old son has taken to standing next to his sister to wave good-bye to me and call out, “You come back later okay?” It has become his mantra.

It never quite occurred to me how big a challenge is saying good-bye for children until I worked with a globally-developmental delayed five-year old a few months ago. It became apparent how that difficulty was “acted out in inappropriate manner”; usually termed as tantruming or having a “meltdown”.

My son used to insist I sent him right up to his classroom. The good-bye would only happen after he has changed his pair of shoes (the children have to wear another pair of “indoor” shoes upon arrival), place his notebook (used as a communication book between parents and teachers) on the teacher’s desk, park his water tumbler at a designated corner and hang up his little knapsack.

After 10 weeks of school, I decided to nudge my son towards another mini milestone: to say good-bye at the school lobby. Since day four when school first began in January, most four-year olds were dropped off at the lobby where they would remove their shoes and walk themselves to their classrooms. My son hadn’t been ready for this. I tried it once; I asked him if I could drop him instead of walk him to the classroom. There was silence. I asked him to give it a try. Reluctantly he said yes. Unfortunately, the teachers on duty that day were unfamiliar to him and they greeted him in Mandarin and Malay. He hollered unashamedly as I drove off. I had to park my car and walk him to his classroom.

A few days later, I asked him again. He looked stressed. He sat very still when the teacher opened the car door for him. I told him to get down and I would come to him after I parked the car. He got off but wailed again.

The next week, we tried again. He put on a brave face. Fortunately, the teachers on duty were familiar to him. Then he quickly asked me which way to his classroom. “Turn left as you walk in. If you are not sure, just ask okay?” I said. He nodded and repeated, “turn left” and hopped off as a teacher came forward to help him. He didn’t wave. I guessed he must have been pre-occupied with the flurry of activity around him; the teachers were greeting him and there were other kids sitting on the steps removing their shoes. It didn’t occur to me that I had used a different entrance when I walked him to his classroom. No wonder he was being apprehensive about his sense of direction.

The following day, I asked if I could drop him off again. He said yes more confidently. As we approached the lobby, I asked if he remembered to bring his “good manners” with him. “Yes, I got it”, he replied. Previously he would be tongue-tied whenever his teachers offered him a greeting. I would usually say softly in his ear, “Oops, you forgot to bring your good manners. Don’t forget to bring them with you okay?”

For the past few days, each time I asked if I could say good-bye at the lobby, he would say, “Mummy, yes, you can always do that. Always. And, I also remember to bring my good manners with me.”

I beamed happily.

“Why are you smiling, Mummy?”

“Oh, I feel very happy to hear that I can always drop you off at the lobby. It means that you have grown up a little,” I said hugging him. He rewarded me with a broad grin.

So for my son, the difficulty of saying good-bye for him was further compounded by his awareness of his inability to communicate in foreign languages and a host of other new experiences. This understanding didn’t occur to me until I began to reflect on my work with my five-year old student. As his teacher cum therapist, I was ever so mindful of all my responses and reactions to him during my nine-hour per week sessions with him. Due to his challenges, I could see very clearly all the antecedent factors leading to his “meltdowns” (tantrums). Working with this boy required my full awareness of his moment-to-moment responses and reactions. Although I only worked with him for a short term of three months, the experience and lessons I learnt were worth a lifetime for me. In reality, he was my teacher.

When mum leaves the house (e.g. out to the shop), the toddler hollers. In my case, my four-year old still wails his lungs out when he wakes up without mum in the house. It can be exasperating and stressful for mum and the caregivers (who looks after junior whilst mum is away).

While my son handles “TV time’s up” and “Let’s go home” pretty well, there have been other trying times when supreme patience comes into play. When he first started pre-school early in the year, he became resistant after two days. Going to school had been something he was looking all forward to since we took him to the school for registration.

He gave all kinds of excuses and even said he preferred to be at home. And because my boy has the ability to “reason” with me, I quickly found out the reasons he was refusing school. Before he attended school, he could only understand English. So, when some teachers and friends started communicating with him with Mandarin and Malay, he was stumped and he reacted by “clamping up”. He would tell me that he didn’t want to go to school because he could not draw, write and read; probably inferred from observing his older siblings (aged 10 and 8 years) reading and completing schoolwork. So, the poor boy was all stressed up over the new experiences and at his age, obviously his brain didn’t have the capacity to cope with such challenges.* I communicated this to his three teachers (particularly the ones who speak Mandarin and Malay), and with their close co-operation, my son quickly overcame these fears. On my part, I tried all kinds of persuasion, reasoning and yes, including rewards (such as horse-riding, visits to his favourite friend’s home, birthday party, etc) for each week of school.

Children learn to cope and do life better when the adults around him speak on the same page. Being human and particularly for a growing child, there are numerous milestones (mini and major ones) which he has to tackle. Saying good-bye to something familiar (being at home) and taking on new experiences are factors that trigger his homeostasis.

[* Young children’s higher brain which governs reasoning, problem solving, etc is under-developed and when they experience separation distress and other powerful feelings, they are unable to think and calm themselves down. Thus, their lower brain which activates rage/fear and defence/attack responses becomes the driving seat, resulting in tears. (M. Sunderland, 2006: The Science of Parenting)]

“Oh? Why should we do that?”

“We have to take care of the earth. The earth is sick,” he announced in between bites of his cake which he helped to bake earlier in the day.

He had just returned from the kindergarten, after spending three and half hours in the afternoon on a daily basis. I knew the kindy teachers must have talked to their students about Earth Hour (March 28^th, 8.30pm).

My son is rather shy in school and not particularly very participative in the movement and dance activities. During the first few weeks in the new term (In January), I had often stayed on to accompany him during the daily assemblies at the school hall where 200 children aged three and six years gathered for group exercise and “current affairs education”. My boy would usually stand observing everyone in action; quite rarely he would attempt to join in. However, he is completely different at home. He has performed for me all the songs he learnt in school. Most of the time whenever I ask how the day has been for him, he would reply, “wonderful’ or “fun” or even “amazing”…probably picked up the word from his favourite story book titled, “The Gruffalo”. So, it is indeed a pleasant surprise that he could remind me to switch off the essential lights for Earth Hour on Saturday, 28^th March.

This kindergarten, operated by the Soka Gakkai Cultural Group, has never failed to enlighten me about education and its purpose. In January, during one of the assemblies, the school supervisor presented a slide show of birds flying in the sky and then followed by an aeroplane. Then she narrated about the courageous pilot who did an emergency landing on the frozen Hudson River, in the United States, thus saving over a hundred lives. She explained that some birds were sucked into one of the plane’s engines which caused its failure. As she spoke in dual languages (English and Mandarin), photographs of the rescue mission on the Hudson River were shown on the big screen for the children. Then she told the children that no one was injured because “everyone listened, lined up one-by-one and followed instructions to safety”. She emphasized the importance of such instructions during emergency. The school was, at this time, educating the children about fire drills. My son, like many others, was also learning about being in a queue for the first time. Before she concluded the session, a portrait of Mr Barrack Obama came onto the screen. “Children, do you know this man? He is a very important man and tomorrow he will be making history in the United States of America and the world. Let me tell you all about it tomorrow.”

With such a teaser, even I wouldn’t miss it for the world. So, I found myself at the hall again the next afternoon. I wondered what the school’s message for the children might be? The supervisor prepared her material well. Without getting into the complexity of the serious affair, she highlighted Mr Barrack Obama’s key message in his inauguration speech as the 44^th President of the United States of America: be friendly to our neighbours and everyone in the world. Through tolerance and understanding, we can achieve peace and harmony together. What a lovely way to present it!

My two older children (now aged 11 and 9) had also benefited from this school’s philosophy. When the Iraq war broke out, the teachers revised a huge part of the curriculum to concentrate on educating the children about atrocities of war and the importance of peace and harmony through creative approaches. Similarly when the tsunami came and changed the lives of millions, the school proactively educated the children about generosity, kindness and love. All the their lessons were done at the level of the children’s development.

School like this is a rare breed. So far, I have yet to come across another kindergarten which would go to such lengths to instill good virtues in their students. Kindergartens in my area are more concerned about making a child write and count and recite the ABCs. They are given homework (writing pages of the alphabet and memorizing words for spelling tests) and examinations. I once protested about examinations and homework to a kindergarten teacher who operates a mere 50 metres from my home. I was told that they requested by parents. Parents, apparently would worry if their children cannot read or write at age 5 or 6.

We parted ways and once I got home, after spending a bit of time with my two older children (who were getting ready for bed), I decided to check my emails quickly. I thought the youngest (aged three and half years) could wait. While I was running through my emails, one of the women I had dinner with invited me to chat online. She wanted to talk about something she wasn’t comfortable to share earlier with the group.

Just then, my boy came up to me and said softly, “Give me a hug please.” Immediately I felt guilty for not putting him first. As I held him close, he whispered, “Thank you so much.” That touched me tremendously. When I shared it with my friend, she replied: “That’s what you don’t get when you live alone.”

I have given up working full time since having my daughter a decade ago. Sometimes I feel very sad when I see how much ahead my peers have gone ahead in their careers. To compensate for this, I try to find the little bits of joy from being with my children in their growing years. Five years ago, when my daughter learnt about occupations at kindy, she was asked by her teachers what she would like to be. Without any hesitation, she said, “I want to be a mommy.” I felt very honoured and humbled that a five-year old could understand what it meant to her to have a mother around most of the time.

“Are you nuts? How can you accept this?” she asked exasperatedly. On the document, it clearly stated the name of their child as: Cassandra Lee May Ling A/P Lee Chu Sing.

(In South East Asia, A/P is an abbreviation for “daughter of” and it is typically used for ethnic groups who take on their fathers’ first names as surnames. It is redundant for the Chinese who place their family’s name before their given names.)

Sue’s husband is a successful corporate lawyer and poring over legal documents is his forte. We may laugh over this. But all of us are like him when we enter into the unknown world of parenthood. We are trained and educated for excellence in our careers and even at play or leisure, we find out all about the do’s and don’ts before we wet our feet.

But being a parent is another ball game altogether. Not even our mothers could have prepared us well for the task of raising children. To many, having children is just another part of ‘The Cycle Of Life’. Our duties are to feed them, clothe them, love them and educate them. Is a parent-child relationship merely a giver-receiver relationship?

Think about it. Wouldn’t you agree that you are a better person because of your children? The life lessons my children has taught me from the very beginning are beyond anything I could learn from books.

The very first lesson for me is patience. Oh yes, all these years, I have learnt well that patience is a result of not having any expectations. Patience also means going with the flow. With patience, I also learnt to be more aware of my thoughts and to respond positively to my daily challenges. My second child gave me these invaluable lessons through unreasonable tantrums right from his 18^th month till his fourth year.

The ultimate lesson on patience came with the birth of my youngest child. He timed his birth up to the very moment I felt impossible to “hold on” further. Other than a pessary to soften the cervix (the birth was induced at 38^th week as I was on insulin for gestational diabetes), I refused epidural and pethidine because I wanted to be aware of every single moment during the birth.

And my baby gave me exactly what I wanted: moment-to-moment awareness for 22 and half hours in the labour ward. When he finally nudged his head out, I was completely in touch with every single sensation and I felt (surprisingly) peaceful.

My baby taught me the virtue of patience with grace. He wouldn’t holler when he was hungry; just a slight gurgle and he would wait without a fuss when I kept him waiting – even to the extent of waiting for more than a minute while I eased myself. He is now three; because of his sweet nature, the terrible-two stage was non-existent. His patience is truly remarkable.

I still struggle to teach my second child (who is four years older) delayed-gratification but my youngest seems to embody patience. He does have his moments of anger and crying tantrums (especially when his TV time quota is up for the day) but he bounces back to his normal self in less than 10 minutes. He would come round, teary-eyed and says, “I am sorry Mummy for tantrum (ing). Please forgive me.” After a hug and some smooches, he would happily get on.

Then there is this huge lesson on self-love. It has been so easy to fall in love with my children. I never had dolls to play with while growing up so my babies were my living dolls. One night while I was lying next to my then 10-week old daughter after a round of cuddling and singing, I was locked in her gaze for a few minutes. I felt a tremendous sense of love emanating from her bright round eyes. For that moment in time, I felt truly loved. But it also hit me hard. Did I love myself as much as my daughter loved me?

I knew deep down, the answer was a big no. When I pondered further, I realized how important it was to love and accept myself. Without self-love, the inevitable is low self-esteem. I couldn’t see and appreciate the good stuff about myself. Through my daughter’s eyes, I gathered enough courage to embark on a journey of self-discovery and ultimately towards self-love.

Truly, my children are my greatest teachers.

I couldn’t stop their comments nor reject their gifts for my daughter. “Wear this dress and tie up your hair this way, you will look very pretty,” they would say to my daughter. Before long, my daughter who had for the initial years preferred cotton tee-shirts and shorts/leggings, took a huge fancy to dresses. She also began to believe that long hair would make her look pretty (also due to peer pressure – most of her classmates had long hair) and wanted the same.

I have always tried to be careful with my choice of words about appearance with her. When I braided her hair once, I merely said, “You look neat!” I would have preferred to say, “You look really cute like a doll!” Whenever she tried to head off to school without brushing her hair, I would say, “Don’t go with your messy hair.”

Despite being mindful of the appropriate words to use with her, my daughter is much influenced by what her friends’ say. She hasn’t had her hair braided again because she didn’t like it when her friends commented that her braids had looked different from theirs. When she told us, we tried to explain to her that her own preferences were more important to herself than what others thought of her.

To be able to stand tall in one’s very own space, the key is self confidence. When I reflected on my own shortcomings, I realized that I hadn’t learnt to love myself as I was growing up. Perhaps this is the first step – to teach my children to love themselves.

As soon as my children are old enough to tell me that they love me, I would ask them, “Do you love yourself? Don’t forget to love yourself!” I hope by saying it often enough, the message will get across.

I always remind them to be kind to themselves; whenever they lose a game or can’t complete a task, it’s better to let “that awful feeling go”. I’ve found this “letting go” is a huge challenge for them – come to think of it, it’s not that easy either for an adult. Whenever the opportunity arises, I would ask, “What would you say to the other players, if you lose a game?” My quick thinking daughter had once replied without hesitation, “Oh, that’s okay. It’s only a game. I still love you.”

Children are essentially kind hearted and loving towards their family and friends; if they are encouraged to be as loving to themselves, they will not fear failure and rejection. Confidence comes to any child who loves herself and believes in herself.

Through newspaper cuttings of the children displaced and orphaned by war, songs of peace, activities and games involving co-operation and a beautiful public art exhibition themed Peace and Harmony, my daughter and her friends learnt some powerful lessons that would last a lifetime.

If more schools and teachers work together to promote such peaceful ways, there will be fewer conflicts around us.

But how can we, as parents, help support such great work? Perhaps the keyword lies in “inner peace”. I have found that inner peace can be achieved and taught to our children by teaching them to love themselves.

When we are kind to ourselves, we tend to be able to acknowledge our strengths and weaknesses better. This will lead to a certain contentment and happiness from within. Theoretically, there will be little envy or even jealousy and perhaps intense rivalry and the power to control over others may not have the chance to manifest.

For many of us, self love can be pretty challenging, what more trying to teach (through example) it to our children. Take heart, it isn’t that difficult. Just think, if we can love our children so unconditionally, that very same feeling can also be extended to ourselves.

Let me share with you a tragic story that convinced me of the importance of raising children who love themselves.

In 2002, a friend related to me how his 23-year old brother-in-law took his own life by inhaling exhaust fumes in his car. This young man was then living with his parents in a very affluent neighbourhood. No one knew why he chose to end his life but the family was certain it wasn’t about money (debts). They wondered if it could be unrequited love. I felt sad for the old couple who lost their only son but sadder that he didn’t love himself enough to brave through the storm.

To me, children who grow up with a healthy self esteem (which also means they love themselves and have a certain level of contentment and inner peace) will weather out whatever that comes their way – regardless of their IQ score.