Other than a sucker for pisang derivatives, I’m also a sucker for bubur.

Bubur ayam.

Bubur ikan.

Bubur lambuk.

Bubur durian.

Bubur pulut hitam.

Bubur kacang.

You name it. I can’t yet think of a kind of bubur I don’t like.

Random, I know. But that is my state of mind this morning. Yesterday had seen me peacefully float through my hours at work even when the dinner preparation is chaotic the previous day. But I took deep breaths, let go, and find options. Tough though it is.

And I get my boss to agree to pay for any additional costs incurred.

Sorry, Tenera. I madly want to do the dinner at your place, but some things are just not meant to be.

Like crispy rendang.

Cough cough.


Winter nowadays love to grab at my face. Hold him facing me and he’ll be reaching out for my cheek. And when I laugh, he laugh harder. And he was positively trying to grab his dad’s ๋‹ญ๊ฐ•์ • dinner by its bowl, apparently angry he got left out from the eating business again. Chill, baby. Two more weeks left before you get your first bite.

Heartbeat. Umm. A few days ago I was angry at something (I can’t remember what anymore) so when we arrived at the carpark, I just got off with Winter, took my keys and went straight up, not bothering to wait for Heartbeat because he has this tendency to do EVERYTHING super slowly. Later at night as I try to get both of them to sleep, I had a small talk with him.

“But tadi omak tak wait for Heartbeat ni.”

Oww he remembers. It must have hurt him so he brings it up again, I remember thinking.

Guess I must be extra careful from now on not to hurt his feelings.

And then last night.

“Heartbeat wants to sleep with Omak or Abah?” my husband had asked him.

“Sleep with Abah.”


“Because Heartbeat like Abah.”

Dude, doesn’t that translate to you not liking me enough?


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