<?xml version="1.0" encoding="UTF-8"?>
<?xml-stylesheet type="text/xsl" media="screen" href="/~d/styles/atom10full.xsl"?><?xml-stylesheet type="text/css" media="screen" href="http://feeds.feedburner.com/~d/styles/itemcontent.css"?><feed xmlns="http://www.w3.org/2005/Atom" xmlns:openSearch="http://a9.com/-/spec/opensearch/1.1/" xmlns:georss="http://www.georss.org/georss" xmlns:gd="http://schemas.google.com/g/2005" xmlns:thr="http://purl.org/syndication/thread/1.0" xmlns:feedburner="http://rssnamespace.org/feedburner/ext/1.0" gd:etag="W/&quot;D0AMQ388fSp7ImA9WhRQE08.&quot;"><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-6788431392003616537</id><updated>2011-12-08T14:29:42.175+08:00</updated><category term="childhood" /><category term="mall rat" /><category term="illness" /><category term="addiction" /><category term="chats" /><category term="graduation" /><category term="movies" /><category term="sibling rivalry" /><category term="doctors" /><category term="NBN" /><category term="shopping" /><category term="Joel Tantoco" /><category term="swing out sister" /><category term="ZTE" /><category term="Apple" /><category term="Patty" /><category term="malling" /><category term="what kids say" /><category term="father and sons" /><category term="truth" /><category term="summer" /><category term="Fr. 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Nino" /><category term="beds" /><category term="cheaper medicine" /><category term="creativity" /><category term="temper" /><category term="blog action day" /><category term="hand me down" /><category term="memories" /><category term="Lent" /><category term="dancing" /><category term="new year" /><category term="concrete jungle" /><category term="heroes" /><category term="ceremony" /><category term="hospitals" /><category term="prayer" /><category term="Ondoy" /><category term="friends" /><category term="gift of gab" /><category term="smart boy" /><category term="sharing" /><category term="Macintosh" /><category term="women" /><category term="one big fight" /><category term="determination" /><category term="family traditions" /><category term="birthday" /><category term="AH1N1" /><category term="gymboree" /><category term="guinness world record" /><category term="0 to 3" /><category term="cofee" /><category term="politics" /><category term="haircut" /><category term="parenting" /><category term="kuya" /><category term="wife" /><category term="cost of medicine" /><category term="Morato" /><category term="blog" /><category term="toys" /><category term="lunch" /><category term="expressions" /><category term="siblings" /><category term="volkswagen" /><category term="eating" /><category term="play" /><category term="poetry" /><category term="pedia" /><category term="dentist" /><category term="potty training" /><category term="independence" /><category term="younger sibling" /><category term="health" /><category term="filipino traits" /><category term="rotten egg" /><category term="drugs" /><category term="psychiatrists" /><category term="spontaneity" /><category term="money" /><title>RAM-blings</title><subtitle type="html" /><link rel="http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#feed" type="application/atom+xml" href="http://vagaroso.blogspot.com/feeds/posts/default" /><link rel="alternate" type="text/html" href="http://vagaroso.blogspot.com/" /><link rel="next" type="application/atom+xml" href="http://www.blogger.com/feeds/6788431392003616537/posts/default?start-index=26&amp;max-results=25&amp;redirect=false&amp;v=2" /><author><name>RAM</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/08234109358271601915</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel="http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail" width="22" height="32" src="http://3.bp.blogspot.com/__l08W2Cl5EE/SrseHEr99mI/AAAAAAAAAP4/8cV47qd48qg/S220/gabi051109.jpg" /></author><generator version="7.00" uri="http://www.blogger.com">Blogger</generator><openSearch:totalResults>134</openSearch:totalResults><openSearch:startIndex>1</openSearch:startIndex><openSearch:itemsPerPage>25</openSearch:itemsPerPage><atom10:link xmlns:atom10="http://www.w3.org/2005/Atom" rel="self" type="application/atom+xml" href="http://feeds.feedburner.com/Ram-blings" /><feedburner:info uri="ram-blings" /><atom10:link xmlns:atom10="http://www.w3.org/2005/Atom" rel="hub" href="http://pubsubhubbub.appspot.com/" /><entry gd:etag="W/&quot;D0AMQ38zfSp7ImA9WhRQE08.&quot;"><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-6788431392003616537.post-6950915427200395410</id><published>2011-12-08T14:10:00.001+08:00</published><updated>2011-12-08T14:29:42.185+08:00</updated><app:edited xmlns:app="http://www.w3.org/2007/app">2011-12-08T14:29:42.185+08:00</app:edited><title>House that, Papa?</title><link rel="replies" type="application/atom+xml" href="http://vagaroso.blogspot.com/feeds/6950915427200395410/comments/default" title="Post Comments" /><link rel="replies" type="text/html" href="http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=6788431392003616537&amp;postID=6950915427200395410" title="0 Comments" /><link rel="edit" type="application/atom+xml" href="http://www.blogger.com/feeds/6788431392003616537/posts/default/6950915427200395410?v=2" /><link rel="self" type="application/atom+xml" href="http://www.blogger.com/feeds/6788431392003616537/posts/default/6950915427200395410?v=2" /><link rel="alternate" type="text/html" href="http://feedproxy.google.com/~r/Ram-blings/~3/SZsFtDvVykk/house-that-papa.html" title="House that, Papa?" /><author><name>RAM</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/08234109358271601915</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel="http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail" width="22" height="32" src="http://3.bp.blogspot.com/__l08W2Cl5EE/SrseHEr99mI/AAAAAAAAAP4/8cV47qd48qg/S220/gabi051109.jpg" /></author><media:thumbnail xmlns:media="http://search.yahoo.com/mrss/" url="http://3.bp.blogspot.com/-Qcatmd8N4Zg/TuBUuo_pl2I/AAAAAAAAA4M/hdhf9tSpleU/s72-c/IMG_4420.JPG" height="72" width="72" /><thr:total>0</thr:total><content type="html">






We spotted hermit crabs crawling hurriedly on the beach one morning.



"Look, papa!" the little one exclaimed. "Small crabs!"



"They're called hermit crabs, Bela. Let's take one home," her older brother suggested.



"Sorry guys but we can't," kill joy papa intervened. "We shouldn't harm animals."



"But we're not going to harm it," Gabi pleaded. "We will take care of it."



"Yes, 
&lt;p&gt;&lt;a href="http://feedads.g.doubleclick.net/~a/0Qv4ylWC3we026yOBUiBMiOVCRk/0/da"&gt;&lt;img src="http://feedads.g.doubleclick.net/~a/0Qv4ylWC3we026yOBUiBMiOVCRk/0/di" border="0" ismap="true"&gt;&lt;/img&gt;&lt;/a&gt;&lt;br/&gt;
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The scoreline was depressing: Makati Football School - Eleven (11) - Raya School - Nil (0). 



And that was for the very first game of Gabi's 6 years old-and-under team in the Alaska Cup 2011.



The team was totally outclassed. Never have the young kids encountered such skilled opponents. Never have they played against teams that actually employed strategies in the game. 



And the Raya
&lt;p&gt;&lt;a href="http://feedads.g.doubleclick.net/~a/RDvVJ63AvqTT3hXgDXkTIaCEApM/0/da"&gt;&lt;img src="http://feedads.g.doubleclick.net/~a/RDvVJ63AvqTT3hXgDXkTIaCEApM/0/di" border="0" ismap="true"&gt;&lt;/img&gt;&lt;/a&gt;&lt;br/&gt;
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For Halloween in Woodside Gabi and Bela came as mummies. Patty soaked the strips of cloth in coffee, dried them and then twirled them around the two. Unfortunately, the strips slowly unraveled as the kids went around the village for trick or treat.

For Raya School's Pangangaluwa, were the students were encouraged to wear costumes depicting creatures from Philippine mythology, Gabi dressed as 
&lt;p&gt;&lt;a href="http://feedads.g.doubleclick.net/~a/3mDe13ablvNQeS-aO9Tmdbww8FM/0/da"&gt;&lt;img src="http://feedads.g.doubleclick.net/~a/3mDe13ablvNQeS-aO9Tmdbww8FM/0/di" border="0" ismap="true"&gt;&lt;/img&gt;&lt;/a&gt;&lt;br/&gt;
&lt;a href="http://feedads.g.doubleclick.net/~a/3mDe13ablvNQeS-aO9Tmdbww8FM/1/da"&gt;&lt;img src="http://feedads.g.doubleclick.net/~a/3mDe13ablvNQeS-aO9Tmdbww8FM/1/di" border="0" ismap="true"&gt;&lt;/img&gt;&lt;/a&gt;&lt;/p&gt;&lt;img src="http://feeds.feedburner.com/~r/Ram-blings/~4/4dNn7aL-5d4" height="1" width="1"/&gt;</content><feedburner:origLink>http://vagaroso.blogspot.com/2011/11/halloween-2011.html</feedburner:origLink></entry><entry gd:etag="W/&quot;Ak4BQnw6eCp7ImA9WhdbF08.&quot;"><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-6788431392003616537.post-7191731147641631693</id><published>2011-10-16T09:35:00.000+08:00</published><updated>2011-10-16T09:35:53.210+08:00</updated><app:edited xmlns:app="http://www.w3.org/2007/app">2011-10-16T09:35:53.210+08:00</app:edited><title>Chill, papa! Chill!</title><link rel="replies" type="application/atom+xml" href="http://vagaroso.blogspot.com/feeds/7191731147641631693/comments/default" title="Post Comments" /><link rel="replies" type="text/html" href="http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=6788431392003616537&amp;postID=7191731147641631693" title="0 Comments" /><link rel="edit" type="application/atom+xml" href="http://www.blogger.com/feeds/6788431392003616537/posts/default/7191731147641631693?v=2" /><link rel="self" type="application/atom+xml" href="http://www.blogger.com/feeds/6788431392003616537/posts/default/7191731147641631693?v=2" /><link rel="alternate" type="text/html" href="http://feedproxy.google.com/~r/Ram-blings/~3/QFmOzq7bwnI/chill-papa-chill.html" title="Chill, papa! Chill!" /><author><name>RAM</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/08234109358271601915</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel="http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail" width="22" height="32" src="http://3.bp.blogspot.com/__l08W2Cl5EE/SrseHEr99mI/AAAAAAAAAP4/8cV47qd48qg/S220/gabi051109.jpg" /></author><media:thumbnail xmlns:media="http://search.yahoo.com/mrss/" url="http://4.bp.blogspot.com/-3XQraXkVOdk/TpozeY76fDI/AAAAAAAAA2s/g8H2n_vfAek/s72-c/IMG_1517.JPG" height="72" width="72" /><thr:total>0</thr:total><content type="html">




"Why are you wearing a sweater?" I asked Gabi this morning. "It's no longer raining and the sun is out."



Gabi shrugged his shoulders, his way of saying "You just don't understand, Papa."



"No need to wear a sweater this morning, my son." I wanted to convince him. "It's no longer cold."



"Papa," Gabi rolled his eyes. "I don't wear this because it's cold. I wear it because it's cool!"

&lt;p&gt;&lt;a href="http://feedads.g.doubleclick.net/~a/ZNg4cTdmoGphvR2BKeiCw0Nzvic/0/da"&gt;&lt;img src="http://feedads.g.doubleclick.net/~a/ZNg4cTdmoGphvR2BKeiCw0Nzvic/0/di" border="0" ismap="true"&gt;&lt;/img&gt;&lt;/a&gt;&lt;br/&gt;
&lt;a href="http://feedads.g.doubleclick.net/~a/ZNg4cTdmoGphvR2BKeiCw0Nzvic/1/da"&gt;&lt;img src="http://feedads.g.doubleclick.net/~a/ZNg4cTdmoGphvR2BKeiCw0Nzvic/1/di" border="0" ismap="true"&gt;&lt;/img&gt;&lt;/a&gt;&lt;/p&gt;&lt;img src="http://feeds.feedburner.com/~r/Ram-blings/~4/QFmOzq7bwnI" height="1" width="1"/&gt;</content><feedburner:origLink>http://vagaroso.blogspot.com/2011/10/chill-papa-chill.html</feedburner:origLink></entry><entry gd:etag="W/&quot;DEUMQX0-eyp7ImA9WhdbEkQ.&quot;"><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-6788431392003616537.post-3067152355515796876</id><published>2011-10-11T09:19:00.001+08:00</published><updated>2011-10-11T09:24:40.353+08:00</updated><app:edited xmlns:app="http://www.w3.org/2007/app">2011-10-11T09:24:40.353+08:00</app:edited><title>Kuya can you hear me?</title><link rel="replies" type="application/atom+xml" href="http://vagaroso.blogspot.com/feeds/3067152355515796876/comments/default" title="Post Comments" /><link rel="replies" type="text/html" href="http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=6788431392003616537&amp;postID=3067152355515796876" title="0 Comments" /><link rel="edit" type="application/atom+xml" href="http://www.blogger.com/feeds/6788431392003616537/posts/default/3067152355515796876?v=2" /><link rel="self" type="application/atom+xml" href="http://www.blogger.com/feeds/6788431392003616537/posts/default/3067152355515796876?v=2" /><link rel="alternate" type="text/html" href="http://feedproxy.google.com/~r/Ram-blings/~3/61edxVR73P0/kuya-can-you-hear-me.html" title="Kuya can you hear me?" /><author><name>RAM</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/08234109358271601915</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel="http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail" width="22" height="32" src="http://3.bp.blogspot.com/__l08W2Cl5EE/SrseHEr99mI/AAAAAAAAAP4/8cV47qd48qg/S220/gabi051109.jpg" /></author><media:thumbnail xmlns:media="http://search.yahoo.com/mrss/" url="http://3.bp.blogspot.com/-2TtmkZvEgQI/TpOXmadxt_I/AAAAAAAAA2k/FRa_YaPq3go/s72-c/IMG_3508.JPG" height="72" width="72" /><thr:total>0</thr:total><content type="html">


"Look what I made in school, kuya." Bela wanted to impress Gabi.

"Two cans and a string? What's that?" a bored Gabi replied.

"It's a telephone! Look, put this can on your ear and I will whisper on the other."

"I can't hear you. Sorry." Gabi said, obviously not wanting to play this game with his younger sister.

"Hmm..." Bela was puzzled since the device worked perfectly earlier in school. "
&lt;p&gt;&lt;a href="http://feedads.g.doubleclick.net/~a/DcgmbJDgoRYnwYOzBZrOnuKNT2o/0/da"&gt;&lt;img src="http://feedads.g.doubleclick.net/~a/DcgmbJDgoRYnwYOzBZrOnuKNT2o/0/di" border="0" ismap="true"&gt;&lt;/img&gt;&lt;/a&gt;&lt;br/&gt;
&lt;a href="http://feedads.g.doubleclick.net/~a/DcgmbJDgoRYnwYOzBZrOnuKNT2o/1/da"&gt;&lt;img src="http://feedads.g.doubleclick.net/~a/DcgmbJDgoRYnwYOzBZrOnuKNT2o/1/di" border="0" ismap="true"&gt;&lt;/img&gt;&lt;/a&gt;&lt;/p&gt;&lt;img src="http://feeds.feedburner.com/~r/Ram-blings/~4/61edxVR73P0" height="1" width="1"/&gt;</content><feedburner:origLink>http://vagaroso.blogspot.com/2011/10/kuya-can-you-hear-me.html</feedburner:origLink></entry><entry gd:etag="W/&quot;CEYMRH0_fSp7ImA9WhdVFEU.&quot;"><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-6788431392003616537.post-7348367856259885679</id><published>2011-09-20T09:29:00.000+08:00</published><updated>2011-09-20T09:29:45.345+08:00</updated><app:edited xmlns:app="http://www.w3.org/2007/app">2011-09-20T09:29:45.345+08:00</app:edited><title>Gabi Performs</title><link rel="replies" type="application/atom+xml" href="http://vagaroso.blogspot.com/feeds/7348367856259885679/comments/default" title="Post Comments" /><link rel="replies" type="text/html" href="http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=6788431392003616537&amp;postID=7348367856259885679" title="0 Comments" /><link rel="edit" type="application/atom+xml" href="http://www.blogger.com/feeds/6788431392003616537/posts/default/7348367856259885679?v=2" /><link rel="self" type="application/atom+xml" href="http://www.blogger.com/feeds/6788431392003616537/posts/default/7348367856259885679?v=2" /><link rel="alternate" type="text/html" href="http://feedproxy.google.com/~r/Ram-blings/~3/Uot7GefIZB8/gabi-performs.html" title="Gabi Performs" /><author><name>RAM</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/08234109358271601915</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel="http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail" width="22" height="32" src="http://3.bp.blogspot.com/__l08W2Cl5EE/SrseHEr99mI/AAAAAAAAAP4/8cV47qd48qg/S220/gabi051109.jpg" /></author><media:thumbnail xmlns:media="http://search.yahoo.com/mrss/" url="http://img.youtube.com/vi/3g7Yx5MfLis/default.jpg" height="72" width="72" /><thr:total>0</thr:total><content type="html">Gabi likes to sing and dance. Gabi likes Bruno Mars. Here's Gabi's rendition of Bruno Mars' hit.



&lt;p&gt;&lt;a href="http://feedads.g.doubleclick.net/~a/kq5QB3KbTRBIaa1XvLMiRnOe8KQ/0/da"&gt;&lt;img src="http://feedads.g.doubleclick.net/~a/kq5QB3KbTRBIaa1XvLMiRnOe8KQ/0/di" border="0" ismap="true"&gt;&lt;/img&gt;&lt;/a&gt;&lt;br/&gt;
&lt;a href="http://feedads.g.doubleclick.net/~a/kq5QB3KbTRBIaa1XvLMiRnOe8KQ/1/da"&gt;&lt;img src="http://feedads.g.doubleclick.net/~a/kq5QB3KbTRBIaa1XvLMiRnOe8KQ/1/di" border="0" ismap="true"&gt;&lt;/img&gt;&lt;/a&gt;&lt;/p&gt;&lt;img src="http://feeds.feedburner.com/~r/Ram-blings/~4/Uot7GefIZB8" height="1" width="1"/&gt;</content><feedburner:origLink>http://vagaroso.blogspot.com/2011/09/gabi-performs.html</feedburner:origLink></entry><entry gd:etag="W/&quot;DkMDRHY_eSp7ImA9WhdQF08.&quot;"><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-6788431392003616537.post-3640279630073176157</id><published>2011-08-19T11:27:00.000+08:00</published><updated>2011-08-19T11:27:55.841+08:00</updated><app:edited xmlns:app="http://www.w3.org/2007/app">2011-08-19T11:27:55.841+08:00</app:edited><title>One, Two, Three, Four, Five ...</title><link rel="replies" type="application/atom+xml" href="http://vagaroso.blogspot.com/feeds/3640279630073176157/comments/default" title="Post Comments" /><link rel="replies" type="text/html" href="http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=6788431392003616537&amp;postID=3640279630073176157" title="0 Comments" /><link rel="edit" type="application/atom+xml" href="http://www.blogger.com/feeds/6788431392003616537/posts/default/3640279630073176157?v=2" /><link rel="self" type="application/atom+xml" href="http://www.blogger.com/feeds/6788431392003616537/posts/default/3640279630073176157?v=2" /><link rel="alternate" type="text/html" href="http://feedproxy.google.com/~r/Ram-blings/~3/XEKbQKS1RO4/one-two-three-four-five.html" title="One, Two, Three, Four, Five ..." /><author><name>RAM</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/08234109358271601915</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel="http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail" width="22" height="32" src="http://3.bp.blogspot.com/__l08W2Cl5EE/SrseHEr99mI/AAAAAAAAAP4/8cV47qd48qg/S220/gabi051109.jpg" /></author><media:thumbnail xmlns:media="http://search.yahoo.com/mrss/" url="http://4.bp.blogspot.com/-hUs9_nthNcU/Tk3U22wspuI/AAAAAAAAA2M/6i9hZWsysIw/s72-c/IMG_1159.JPG" height="72" width="72" /><thr:total>0</thr:total><content type="html">
I bring Bela to school every day. I go home from the office before twelve noon, have a quick lunch with Patty and then bring a fresh from her nap Bela to her 1 pm class in Raya School. Bela prefers this arrangement. She wants me to bring her to school and then Mommy to pick her up.

Each trip to school is like a The Count segment in Sesame Street. Bela just loves to count! And like the Sesame 
&lt;p&gt;&lt;a href="http://feedads.g.doubleclick.net/~a/98G_29oaIW-DEgWjXq0S9KzEYrI/0/da"&gt;&lt;img src="http://feedads.g.doubleclick.net/~a/98G_29oaIW-DEgWjXq0S9KzEYrI/0/di" border="0" ismap="true"&gt;&lt;/img&gt;&lt;/a&gt;&lt;br/&gt;
&lt;a href="http://feedads.g.doubleclick.net/~a/98G_29oaIW-DEgWjXq0S9KzEYrI/1/da"&gt;&lt;img src="http://feedads.g.doubleclick.net/~a/98G_29oaIW-DEgWjXq0S9KzEYrI/1/di" border="0" ismap="true"&gt;&lt;/img&gt;&lt;/a&gt;&lt;/p&gt;&lt;img src="http://feeds.feedburner.com/~r/Ram-blings/~4/XEKbQKS1RO4" height="1" width="1"/&gt;</content><feedburner:origLink>http://vagaroso.blogspot.com/2011/08/one-two-three-four-five.html</feedburner:origLink></entry><entry gd:etag="W/&quot;DkEESH0_eCp7ImA9WhdTFkw.&quot;"><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-6788431392003616537.post-9069778749379654014</id><published>2011-07-14T11:36:00.000+08:00</published><updated>2011-07-14T11:36:49.340+08:00</updated><app:edited xmlns:app="http://www.w3.org/2007/app">2011-07-14T11:36:49.340+08:00</app:edited><title>Not Too Old Enough</title><link rel="replies" type="application/atom+xml" href="http://vagaroso.blogspot.com/feeds/9069778749379654014/comments/default" title="Post Comments" /><link rel="replies" type="text/html" href="http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=6788431392003616537&amp;postID=9069778749379654014" title="0 Comments" /><link rel="edit" type="application/atom+xml" href="http://www.blogger.com/feeds/6788431392003616537/posts/default/9069778749379654014?v=2" /><link rel="self" type="application/atom+xml" href="http://www.blogger.com/feeds/6788431392003616537/posts/default/9069778749379654014?v=2" /><link rel="alternate" type="text/html" href="http://feedproxy.google.com/~r/Ram-blings/~3/CokZTiDQdmI/not-too-old-enough.html" title="Not Too Old Enough" /><author><name>RAM</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/08234109358271601915</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel="http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail" width="22" height="32" src="http://3.bp.blogspot.com/__l08W2Cl5EE/SrseHEr99mI/AAAAAAAAAP4/8cV47qd48qg/S220/gabi051109.jpg" /></author><media:thumbnail xmlns:media="http://search.yahoo.com/mrss/" url="http://2.bp.blogspot.com/-ByvhmOutPU0/Th5jMH5VA7I/AAAAAAAAA08/YVjJcaDrbZo/s72-c/IMG_1108.JPG" height="72" width="72" /><thr:total>0</thr:total><content type="html">Gabi is 6 years old now and is in Grade 1 already. Our baby has now grown up. He no longer snuggles up to Patty and I in bed. Getting him to kiss us in the morning is already difficult. I dread the day that he will ask me not to hug him in front of his friends.

But once in a while he still shows flashes of his old sweet self. Like one day last week when he left these love notes on my office desk
&lt;p&gt;&lt;a href="http://feedads.g.doubleclick.net/~a/Visl-UA1mbs01-zreO-JS10-DNY/0/da"&gt;&lt;img src="http://feedads.g.doubleclick.net/~a/Visl-UA1mbs01-zreO-JS10-DNY/0/di" border="0" ismap="true"&gt;&lt;/img&gt;&lt;/a&gt;&lt;br/&gt;
&lt;a href="http://feedads.g.doubleclick.net/~a/Visl-UA1mbs01-zreO-JS10-DNY/1/da"&gt;&lt;img src="http://feedads.g.doubleclick.net/~a/Visl-UA1mbs01-zreO-JS10-DNY/1/di" border="0" ismap="true"&gt;&lt;/img&gt;&lt;/a&gt;&lt;/p&gt;&lt;img src="http://feeds.feedburner.com/~r/Ram-blings/~4/CokZTiDQdmI" height="1" width="1"/&gt;</content><feedburner:origLink>http://vagaroso.blogspot.com/2011/07/not-too-old-enough.html</feedburner:origLink></entry><entry gd:etag="W/&quot;CkABQXc6eCp7ImA9WhZaE0w.&quot;"><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-6788431392003616537.post-8384866519518814006</id><published>2011-06-28T15:25:00.000+08:00</published><updated>2011-06-29T09:25:50.910+08:00</updated><app:edited xmlns:app="http://www.w3.org/2007/app">2011-06-29T09:25:50.910+08:00</app:edited><title>Moody One</title><link rel="replies" type="application/atom+xml" href="http://vagaroso.blogspot.com/feeds/8384866519518814006/comments/default" title="Post Comments" /><link rel="replies" type="text/html" href="http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=6788431392003616537&amp;postID=8384866519518814006" title="0 Comments" /><link rel="edit" type="application/atom+xml" href="http://www.blogger.com/feeds/6788431392003616537/posts/default/8384866519518814006?v=2" /><link rel="self" type="application/atom+xml" href="http://www.blogger.com/feeds/6788431392003616537/posts/default/8384866519518814006?v=2" /><link rel="alternate" type="text/html" href="http://feedproxy.google.com/~r/Ram-blings/~3/q9aK9s5o1XQ/moody-one.html" title="Moody One" /><author><name>RAM</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/08234109358271601915</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel="http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail" width="22" height="32" src="http://3.bp.blogspot.com/__l08W2Cl5EE/SrseHEr99mI/AAAAAAAAAP4/8cV47qd48qg/S220/gabi051109.jpg" /></author><media:thumbnail xmlns:media="http://search.yahoo.com/mrss/" url="http://2.bp.blogspot.com/-3M9AqQxXc8Q/Tgp9_HM_ulI/AAAAAAAAA0I/gq5q9sTWF1Y/s72-c/IMG_1120.JPG" height="72" width="72" /><thr:total>0</thr:total><content type="html">
I hurriedly woke Bela up from her nap when I got home at lunch time. I had to get her ready for school and it was already getting late.

Wrong move. She turned cranky. And difficult. 
She wanted to wear her red uniform instead of the prescribed blue. So I made her wear one on top of the other. 
Then she insisted on wearing her kuya's big shoes even if she ended up stumbling all the way to school
&lt;p&gt;&lt;a href="http://feedads.g.doubleclick.net/~a/7dZxI7VVKwxhjQiYM-zPM-Fuo6A/0/da"&gt;&lt;img src="http://feedads.g.doubleclick.net/~a/7dZxI7VVKwxhjQiYM-zPM-Fuo6A/0/di" border="0" ismap="true"&gt;&lt;/img&gt;&lt;/a&gt;&lt;br/&gt;
&lt;a href="http://feedads.g.doubleclick.net/~a/7dZxI7VVKwxhjQiYM-zPM-Fuo6A/1/da"&gt;&lt;img src="http://feedads.g.doubleclick.net/~a/7dZxI7VVKwxhjQiYM-zPM-Fuo6A/1/di" border="0" ismap="true"&gt;&lt;/img&gt;&lt;/a&gt;&lt;/p&gt;&lt;img src="http://feeds.feedburner.com/~r/Ram-blings/~4/q9aK9s5o1XQ" height="1" width="1"/&gt;</content><feedburner:origLink>http://vagaroso.blogspot.com/2011/06/moody-one.html</feedburner:origLink></entry><entry gd:etag="W/&quot;DUcMQ3cyfCp7ImA9WhZaEkk.&quot;"><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-6788431392003616537.post-5119654546863235318</id><published>2011-06-27T15:44:00.000+08:00</published><updated>2011-06-28T15:44:42.994+08:00</updated><app:edited xmlns:app="http://www.w3.org/2007/app">2011-06-28T15:44:42.994+08:00</app:edited><title>Hair's Another One</title><link rel="replies" type="application/atom+xml" href="http://vagaroso.blogspot.com/feeds/5119654546863235318/comments/default" title="Post Comments" /><link rel="replies" type="text/html" href="http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=6788431392003616537&amp;postID=5119654546863235318" title="0 Comments" /><link rel="edit" type="application/atom+xml" href="http://www.blogger.com/feeds/6788431392003616537/posts/default/5119654546863235318?v=2" /><link rel="self" type="application/atom+xml" href="http://www.blogger.com/feeds/6788431392003616537/posts/default/5119654546863235318?v=2" /><link rel="alternate" type="text/html" href="http://feedproxy.google.com/~r/Ram-blings/~3/yoep7mMlu8Q/hairs-another-one.html" title="Hair's Another One" /><author><name>RAM</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/08234109358271601915</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel="http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail" width="22" height="32" src="http://3.bp.blogspot.com/__l08W2Cl5EE/SrseHEr99mI/AAAAAAAAAP4/8cV47qd48qg/S220/gabi051109.jpg" /></author><media:thumbnail xmlns:media="http://search.yahoo.com/mrss/" url="http://2.bp.blogspot.com/-qLucwLcM-2M/TgmGO2A1rEI/AAAAAAAAA0E/ZCHMrA4B6t0/s72-c/IMG_1118.JPG" height="72" width="72" /><thr:total>0</thr:total><content type="html">
Bela insisted on wearing this to school this afternoon. Apparently she misplaced her hair clips.

And so she did. And now we can't hang our laundry to dry.
&lt;p&gt;&lt;a href="http://feedads.g.doubleclick.net/~a/itKupea_G3G7nR9hJcup5_dKctE/0/da"&gt;&lt;img src="http://feedads.g.doubleclick.net/~a/itKupea_G3G7nR9hJcup5_dKctE/0/di" border="0" ismap="true"&gt;&lt;/img&gt;&lt;/a&gt;&lt;br/&gt;
&lt;a href="http://feedads.g.doubleclick.net/~a/itKupea_G3G7nR9hJcup5_dKctE/1/da"&gt;&lt;img src="http://feedads.g.doubleclick.net/~a/itKupea_G3G7nR9hJcup5_dKctE/1/di" border="0" ismap="true"&gt;&lt;/img&gt;&lt;/a&gt;&lt;/p&gt;&lt;img src="http://feeds.feedburner.com/~r/Ram-blings/~4/yoep7mMlu8Q" height="1" width="1"/&gt;</content><feedburner:origLink>http://vagaroso.blogspot.com/2011/06/hairs-another-one.html</feedburner:origLink></entry><entry gd:etag="W/&quot;Ak8MQn44fyp7ImA9WhZbF00.&quot;"><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-6788431392003616537.post-5005027419706984959</id><published>2011-06-22T10:14:00.000+08:00</published><updated>2011-06-22T10:14:43.037+08:00</updated><app:edited xmlns:app="http://www.w3.org/2007/app">2011-06-22T10:14:43.037+08:00</app:edited><title>Best in Costume</title><link rel="replies" type="application/atom+xml" href="http://vagaroso.blogspot.com/feeds/5005027419706984959/comments/default" title="Post Comments" /><link rel="replies" type="text/html" href="http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=6788431392003616537&amp;postID=5005027419706984959" title="0 Comments" /><link rel="edit" type="application/atom+xml" href="http://www.blogger.com/feeds/6788431392003616537/posts/default/5005027419706984959?v=2" /><link rel="self" type="application/atom+xml" href="http://www.blogger.com/feeds/6788431392003616537/posts/default/5005027419706984959?v=2" /><link rel="alternate" type="text/html" href="http://feedproxy.google.com/~r/Ram-blings/~3/LCyS7inp0Z8/best-in-costume.html" title="Best in Costume" /><author><name>RAM</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/08234109358271601915</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel="http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail" width="22" height="32" src="http://3.bp.blogspot.com/__l08W2Cl5EE/SrseHEr99mI/AAAAAAAAAP4/8cV47qd48qg/S220/gabi051109.jpg" /></author><media:thumbnail xmlns:media="http://search.yahoo.com/mrss/" url="http://4.bp.blogspot.com/-eUZxiQDE-y0/TgFOO27Hi6I/AAAAAAAAAzw/QhI2CS-vXSY/s72-c/jr.jpg" height="72" width="72" /><thr:total>0</thr:total><content type="html">
"So which costume did you like best?" I asked my six year old son when he got home from school.

To commemorate the 150th birthday of our national hero, Jose Rizal, Gabi and the entire elementary school were asked to come dressed in clothes typical of late 19th century Philippine society.

Gabi came in a white camisa, khaki pants and slippers: our take of the clothing common folk wore at that 
&lt;p&gt;&lt;a href="http://feedads.g.doubleclick.net/~a/fl4nsd46qeVJUrZytH_5Qjb58YU/0/da"&gt;&lt;img src="http://feedads.g.doubleclick.net/~a/fl4nsd46qeVJUrZytH_5Qjb58YU/0/di" border="0" ismap="true"&gt;&lt;/img&gt;&lt;/a&gt;&lt;br/&gt;
&lt;a href="http://feedads.g.doubleclick.net/~a/fl4nsd46qeVJUrZytH_5Qjb58YU/1/da"&gt;&lt;img src="http://feedads.g.doubleclick.net/~a/fl4nsd46qeVJUrZytH_5Qjb58YU/1/di" border="0" ismap="true"&gt;&lt;/img&gt;&lt;/a&gt;&lt;/p&gt;&lt;img src="http://feeds.feedburner.com/~r/Ram-blings/~4/LCyS7inp0Z8" height="1" width="1"/&gt;</content><feedburner:origLink>http://vagaroso.blogspot.com/2011/06/best-in-costume.html</feedburner:origLink></entry><entry gd:etag="W/&quot;AkYEQ3s5fCp7ImA9WhZUGUo.&quot;"><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-6788431392003616537.post-703920390266241486</id><published>2011-06-13T22:58:00.002+08:00</published><updated>2011-06-13T23:15:02.524+08:00</updated><app:edited xmlns:app="http://www.w3.org/2007/app">2011-06-13T23:15:02.524+08:00</app:edited><title>Like Father, Like Son</title><link rel="replies" type="application/atom+xml" href="http://vagaroso.blogspot.com/feeds/703920390266241486/comments/default" title="Post Comments" /><link rel="replies" type="text/html" href="http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=6788431392003616537&amp;postID=703920390266241486" title="0 Comments" /><link rel="edit" type="application/atom+xml" href="http://www.blogger.com/feeds/6788431392003616537/posts/default/703920390266241486?v=2" /><link rel="self" type="application/atom+xml" href="http://www.blogger.com/feeds/6788431392003616537/posts/default/703920390266241486?v=2" /><link rel="alternate" type="text/html" href="http://feedproxy.google.com/~r/Ram-blings/~3/7Cvacn9ebA0/like-father-like-son.html" title="Like Father, Like Son" /><author><name>RAM</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/08234109358271601915</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel="http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail" width="22" height="32" src="http://3.bp.blogspot.com/__l08W2Cl5EE/SrseHEr99mI/AAAAAAAAAP4/8cV47qd48qg/S220/gabi051109.jpg" /></author><thr:total>0</thr:total><content type="html">While watching a replay of Game 6 of the NBA Finals, Gabi suddenly smiled.

"Do you know who the leader of the Heat is, Papa?"

"Who, Gabi?" I asked, knowing that there was a joke on its way.

"The guy with number 1 on his shirt, Chris Bosh," he answered. "And do you know why?"

"Because he's number one!" I said, confident of getting the joke.

"Sorry, wrong! He's the leader cause he's the boss! 
&lt;p&gt;&lt;a href="http://feedads.g.doubleclick.net/~a/coRdpCrel0IKZzlHjujXcGQgrtM/0/da"&gt;&lt;img src="http://feedads.g.doubleclick.net/~a/coRdpCrel0IKZzlHjujXcGQgrtM/0/di" border="0" ismap="true"&gt;&lt;/img&gt;&lt;/a&gt;&lt;br/&gt;
&lt;a href="http://feedads.g.doubleclick.net/~a/coRdpCrel0IKZzlHjujXcGQgrtM/1/da"&gt;&lt;img src="http://feedads.g.doubleclick.net/~a/coRdpCrel0IKZzlHjujXcGQgrtM/1/di" border="0" ismap="true"&gt;&lt;/img&gt;&lt;/a&gt;&lt;/p&gt;&lt;img src="http://feeds.feedburner.com/~r/Ram-blings/~4/7Cvacn9ebA0" height="1" width="1"/&gt;</content><feedburner:origLink>http://vagaroso.blogspot.com/2011/06/like-father-like-son.html</feedburner:origLink></entry><entry gd:etag="W/&quot;DEIERXg5fCp7ImA9WhZaEkk.&quot;"><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-6788431392003616537.post-8767728513660028667</id><published>2011-06-08T15:34:00.000+08:00</published><updated>2011-06-28T15:35:04.624+08:00</updated><app:edited xmlns:app="http://www.w3.org/2007/app">2011-06-28T15:35:04.624+08:00</app:edited><title>Bela Redeemed</title><link rel="replies" type="application/atom+xml" href="http://vagaroso.blogspot.com/feeds/8767728513660028667/comments/default" title="Post Comments" /><link rel="replies" type="text/html" href="http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=6788431392003616537&amp;postID=8767728513660028667" title="0 Comments" /><link rel="edit" type="application/atom+xml" href="http://www.blogger.com/feeds/6788431392003616537/posts/default/8767728513660028667?v=2" /><link rel="self" type="application/atom+xml" href="http://www.blogger.com/feeds/6788431392003616537/posts/default/8767728513660028667?v=2" /><link rel="alternate" type="text/html" href="http://feedproxy.google.com/~r/Ram-blings/~3/94PZUM7l0N0/bela-redeemed.html" title="Bela Redeemed" /><author><name>RAM</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/08234109358271601915</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel="http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail" width="22" height="32" src="http://3.bp.blogspot.com/__l08W2Cl5EE/SrseHEr99mI/AAAAAAAAAP4/8cV47qd48qg/S220/gabi051109.jpg" /></author><media:thumbnail xmlns:media="http://search.yahoo.com/mrss/" url="http://3.bp.blogspot.com/-3ZYYKO_srX8/TgmD-EEJWDI/AAAAAAAAA0A/BwisD7o4XYw/s72-c/IMG_1064.JPG" height="72" width="72" /><thr:total>0</thr:total><content type="html">Bela wanted me to post this picture of her. This time with her hair fixed. And without any intervention from brother Gabi.

Much better, don't you think?


&lt;p&gt;&lt;a href="http://feedads.g.doubleclick.net/~a/-oMDQIVe_tDq2gId2wMrf6XPG2I/0/da"&gt;&lt;img src="http://feedads.g.doubleclick.net/~a/-oMDQIVe_tDq2gId2wMrf6XPG2I/0/di" border="0" ismap="true"&gt;&lt;/img&gt;&lt;/a&gt;&lt;br/&gt;
&lt;a href="http://feedads.g.doubleclick.net/~a/-oMDQIVe_tDq2gId2wMrf6XPG2I/1/da"&gt;&lt;img src="http://feedads.g.doubleclick.net/~a/-oMDQIVe_tDq2gId2wMrf6XPG2I/1/di" border="0" ismap="true"&gt;&lt;/img&gt;&lt;/a&gt;&lt;/p&gt;&lt;img src="http://feeds.feedburner.com/~r/Ram-blings/~4/94PZUM7l0N0" height="1" width="1"/&gt;</content><feedburner:origLink>http://vagaroso.blogspot.com/2011/06/bela-redeemed.html</feedburner:origLink></entry><entry gd:etag="W/&quot;DEUARn47fip7ImA9WhZaEkk.&quot;"><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-6788431392003616537.post-2261472053608071932</id><published>2011-06-07T15:30:00.000+08:00</published><updated>2011-06-28T15:30:47.006+08:00</updated><app:edited xmlns:app="http://www.w3.org/2007/app">2011-06-28T15:30:47.006+08:00</app:edited><title>Experimenting on Bela</title><link rel="replies" type="application/atom+xml" href="http://vagaroso.blogspot.com/feeds/2261472053608071932/comments/default" title="Post Comments" /><link rel="replies" type="text/html" href="http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=6788431392003616537&amp;postID=2261472053608071932" title="0 Comments" /><link rel="edit" type="application/atom+xml" href="http://www.blogger.com/feeds/6788431392003616537/posts/default/2261472053608071932?v=2" /><link rel="self" type="application/atom+xml" href="http://www.blogger.com/feeds/6788431392003616537/posts/default/2261472053608071932?v=2" /><link rel="alternate" type="text/html" href="http://feedproxy.google.com/~r/Ram-blings/~3/xxjVmVrkaJ0/experimenting-on-bela.html" title="Experimenting on Bela" /><author><name>RAM</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/08234109358271601915</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel="http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail" width="22" height="32" src="http://3.bp.blogspot.com/__l08W2Cl5EE/SrseHEr99mI/AAAAAAAAAP4/8cV47qd48qg/S220/gabi051109.jpg" /></author><media:thumbnail xmlns:media="http://search.yahoo.com/mrss/" url="http://3.bp.blogspot.com/-2G9QHObBjvY/TgmBn8fodBI/AAAAAAAAAz4/auHRSCpUV1k/s72-c/IMG_1051.JPG" height="72" width="72" /><thr:total>0</thr:total><content type="html">
Gabi went to the parlor the other day and discovered the wonders of molding clay. He was amazed at how it could shape hair.

He asked his mom to buy him some clay and then went home to experiment on his sister.


&lt;p&gt;&lt;a href="http://feedads.g.doubleclick.net/~a/ET0ZYGmO8-R_P9D0hk9_EGXyDF8/0/da"&gt;&lt;img src="http://feedads.g.doubleclick.net/~a/ET0ZYGmO8-R_P9D0hk9_EGXyDF8/0/di" border="0" ismap="true"&gt;&lt;/img&gt;&lt;/a&gt;&lt;br/&gt;
&lt;a href="http://feedads.g.doubleclick.net/~a/ET0ZYGmO8-R_P9D0hk9_EGXyDF8/1/da"&gt;&lt;img src="http://feedads.g.doubleclick.net/~a/ET0ZYGmO8-R_P9D0hk9_EGXyDF8/1/di" border="0" ismap="true"&gt;&lt;/img&gt;&lt;/a&gt;&lt;/p&gt;&lt;img src="http://feeds.feedburner.com/~r/Ram-blings/~4/xxjVmVrkaJ0" height="1" width="1"/&gt;</content><feedburner:origLink>http://vagaroso.blogspot.com/2011/06/experimenting-on-bela.html</feedburner:origLink></entry><entry gd:etag="W/&quot;DkEGQHk6eip7ImA9WhZVGEQ.&quot;"><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-6788431392003616537.post-1626023076620224260</id><published>2011-06-01T10:17:00.000+08:00</published><updated>2011-06-01T10:17:01.712+08:00</updated><app:edited xmlns:app="http://www.w3.org/2007/app">2011-06-01T10:17:01.712+08:00</app:edited><title>His Team, His Choice</title><link rel="replies" type="application/atom+xml" href="http://vagaroso.blogspot.com/feeds/1626023076620224260/comments/default" title="Post Comments" /><link rel="replies" type="text/html" href="http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=6788431392003616537&amp;postID=1626023076620224260" title="0 Comments" /><link rel="edit" type="application/atom+xml" href="http://www.blogger.com/feeds/6788431392003616537/posts/default/1626023076620224260?v=2" /><link rel="self" type="application/atom+xml" href="http://www.blogger.com/feeds/6788431392003616537/posts/default/1626023076620224260?v=2" /><link rel="alternate" type="text/html" href="http://feedproxy.google.com/~r/Ram-blings/~3/t1Z1yuS9oqU/his-team-his-choice.html" title="His Team, His Choice" /><author><name>RAM</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/08234109358271601915</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel="http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail" width="22" height="32" src="http://3.bp.blogspot.com/__l08W2Cl5EE/SrseHEr99mI/AAAAAAAAAP4/8cV47qd48qg/S220/gabi051109.jpg" /></author><media:thumbnail xmlns:media="http://search.yahoo.com/mrss/" url="http://3.bp.blogspot.com/-ZpYzs7NaTD4/TeWc5q0JOMI/AAAAAAAAAyc/w7hEVkGCl_I/s72-c/IMG_1033.JPG" height="72" width="72" /><thr:total>0</thr:total><content type="html">
"Sorry, Papa," my 6 year old son Gabi announced."My team is now Miami Heat!"

And just like that this father's once all powerful influence over his son's preferences was gone. Not too long ago, Gabi would always rely on me when made to make decisions. My opinion clearly mattered in choosing what color of shirt to wear or what team to cheer for.

"You're favorite color is blue, right?" he'd ask 
&lt;p&gt;&lt;a href="http://feedads.g.doubleclick.net/~a/ZJIx86ofbUf2BYb_uzj4Kz2Ugc8/0/da"&gt;&lt;img src="http://feedads.g.doubleclick.net/~a/ZJIx86ofbUf2BYb_uzj4Kz2Ugc8/0/di" border="0" ismap="true"&gt;&lt;/img&gt;&lt;/a&gt;&lt;br/&gt;
&lt;a href="http://feedads.g.doubleclick.net/~a/ZJIx86ofbUf2BYb_uzj4Kz2Ugc8/1/da"&gt;&lt;img src="http://feedads.g.doubleclick.net/~a/ZJIx86ofbUf2BYb_uzj4Kz2Ugc8/1/di" border="0" ismap="true"&gt;&lt;/img&gt;&lt;/a&gt;&lt;/p&gt;&lt;img src="http://feeds.feedburner.com/~r/Ram-blings/~4/t1Z1yuS9oqU" height="1" width="1"/&gt;</content><feedburner:origLink>http://vagaroso.blogspot.com/2011/06/his-team-his-choice.html</feedburner:origLink></entry><entry gd:etag="W/&quot;C0ABRngyeyp7ImA9WhZWGUQ.&quot;"><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-6788431392003616537.post-6879557565584739640</id><published>2011-05-21T23:29:00.000+08:00</published><updated>2011-05-21T23:29:17.693+08:00</updated><app:edited xmlns:app="http://www.w3.org/2007/app">2011-05-21T23:29:17.693+08:00</app:edited><title>Maybe Next Time</title><link rel="replies" type="application/atom+xml" href="http://vagaroso.blogspot.com/feeds/6879557565584739640/comments/default" title="Post Comments" /><link rel="replies" type="text/html" href="http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=6788431392003616537&amp;postID=6879557565584739640" title="1 Comments" /><link rel="edit" type="application/atom+xml" href="http://www.blogger.com/feeds/6788431392003616537/posts/default/6879557565584739640?v=2" /><link rel="self" type="application/atom+xml" href="http://www.blogger.com/feeds/6788431392003616537/posts/default/6879557565584739640?v=2" /><link rel="alternate" type="text/html" href="http://feedproxy.google.com/~r/Ram-blings/~3/nd6qghhHxMY/maybe-next-time.html" title="Maybe Next Time" /><author><name>RAM</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/08234109358271601915</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel="http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail" width="22" height="32" src="http://3.bp.blogspot.com/__l08W2Cl5EE/SrseHEr99mI/AAAAAAAAAP4/8cV47qd48qg/S220/gabi051109.jpg" /></author><thr:total>1</thr:total><content type="html">Patty and I had an early appointment this Saturday morning and so had to rush out of the house with the kids still sleeping. It was something I didn't want to do as I always try to save my weekends with the kids. And so when our appointment ended earlier than we had anticipated, we hurriedly called the house and told the kids that we were going out to have breakfast.The kids love going out and we
&lt;p&gt;&lt;a href="http://feedads.g.doubleclick.net/~a/ggEOxCe6OO_6w36FOZdyQwRFTxE/0/da"&gt;&lt;img src="http://feedads.g.doubleclick.net/~a/ggEOxCe6OO_6w36FOZdyQwRFTxE/0/di" border="0" ismap="true"&gt;&lt;/img&gt;&lt;/a&gt;&lt;br/&gt;
&lt;a href="http://feedads.g.doubleclick.net/~a/ggEOxCe6OO_6w36FOZdyQwRFTxE/1/da"&gt;&lt;img src="http://feedads.g.doubleclick.net/~a/ggEOxCe6OO_6w36FOZdyQwRFTxE/1/di" border="0" ismap="true"&gt;&lt;/img&gt;&lt;/a&gt;&lt;/p&gt;&lt;img src="http://feeds.feedburner.com/~r/Ram-blings/~4/nd6qghhHxMY" height="1" width="1"/&gt;</content><feedburner:origLink>http://vagaroso.blogspot.com/2011/05/maybe-next-time.html</feedburner:origLink></entry><entry gd:etag="W/&quot;C0UBRXs_cSp7ImA9WhZWFE4.&quot;"><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-6788431392003616537.post-2158451836130326637</id><published>2011-05-14T11:04:00.003+08:00</published><updated>2011-05-15T11:47:34.549+08:00</updated><app:edited xmlns:app="http://www.w3.org/2007/app">2011-05-15T11:47:34.549+08:00</app:edited><title>"Why, Papa, why?"</title><link rel="replies" type="application/atom+xml" href="http://vagaroso.blogspot.com/feeds/2158451836130326637/comments/default" title="Post Comments" /><link rel="replies" type="text/html" href="http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=6788431392003616537&amp;postID=2158451836130326637" title="0 Comments" /><link rel="edit" type="application/atom+xml" href="http://www.blogger.com/feeds/6788431392003616537/posts/default/2158451836130326637?v=2" /><link rel="self" type="application/atom+xml" href="http://www.blogger.com/feeds/6788431392003616537/posts/default/2158451836130326637?v=2" /><link rel="alternate" type="text/html" href="http://feedproxy.google.com/~r/Ram-blings/~3/KDZji-Wfg7Q/why-papa.html" title="&quot;Why, Papa, why?&quot;" /><author><name>RAM</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/08234109358271601915</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel="http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail" width="22" height="32" src="http://3.bp.blogspot.com/__l08W2Cl5EE/SrseHEr99mI/AAAAAAAAAP4/8cV47qd48qg/S220/gabi051109.jpg" /></author><thr:total>0</thr:total><content type="html">Bela is now at that stage when she asks questions all the time. And you better be ready with straight answers as she will not stop asking. She needs to know and she'll let you know about it.

"Why do you wear glasses, Papa?" Bela asked one afternoon after I arrived from work.

"Because I cannot see clearly without them," I tried to answer.

"And why can't you see well?" Bela wanted to know.

"Ah,
&lt;p&gt;&lt;a href="http://feedads.g.doubleclick.net/~a/mxiVL-vyVJChlY5SENVD2RXuH08/0/da"&gt;&lt;img src="http://feedads.g.doubleclick.net/~a/mxiVL-vyVJChlY5SENVD2RXuH08/0/di" border="0" ismap="true"&gt;&lt;/img&gt;&lt;/a&gt;&lt;br/&gt;
&lt;a href="http://feedads.g.doubleclick.net/~a/mxiVL-vyVJChlY5SENVD2RXuH08/1/da"&gt;&lt;img src="http://feedads.g.doubleclick.net/~a/mxiVL-vyVJChlY5SENVD2RXuH08/1/di" border="0" ismap="true"&gt;&lt;/img&gt;&lt;/a&gt;&lt;/p&gt;&lt;img src="http://feeds.feedburner.com/~r/Ram-blings/~4/KDZji-Wfg7Q" height="1" width="1"/&gt;</content><feedburner:origLink>http://vagaroso.blogspot.com/2011/05/why-papa.html</feedburner:origLink></entry><entry gd:etag="W/&quot;CE4CQnY_fSp7ImA9WhZRFEk.&quot;"><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-6788431392003616537.post-9035313906692101854</id><published>2011-04-10T21:42:00.000+08:00</published><updated>2011-04-10T21:42:43.845+08:00</updated><app:edited xmlns:app="http://www.w3.org/2007/app">2011-04-10T21:42:43.845+08:00</app:edited><title>Goooooaaaaal!</title><link rel="replies" type="application/atom+xml" href="http://vagaroso.blogspot.com/feeds/9035313906692101854/comments/default" title="Post Comments" /><link rel="replies" type="text/html" href="http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=6788431392003616537&amp;postID=9035313906692101854" title="0 Comments" /><link rel="edit" type="application/atom+xml" href="http://www.blogger.com/feeds/6788431392003616537/posts/default/9035313906692101854?v=2" /><link rel="self" type="application/atom+xml" href="http://www.blogger.com/feeds/6788431392003616537/posts/default/9035313906692101854?v=2" /><link rel="alternate" type="text/html" href="http://feedproxy.google.com/~r/Ram-blings/~3/HIIRK1pmu6k/goooooaaaaal.html" title="Goooooaaaaal!" /><author><name>RAM</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/08234109358271601915</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel="http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail" width="22" height="32" src="http://3.bp.blogspot.com/__l08W2Cl5EE/SrseHEr99mI/AAAAAAAAAP4/8cV47qd48qg/S220/gabi051109.jpg" /></author><media:thumbnail xmlns:media="http://search.yahoo.com/mrss/" url="http://3.bp.blogspot.com/-VdnN0eqqFLs/TZ63a3NY1QI/AAAAAAAAAoM/rJloebnENmk/s72-c/040411.JPG" height="72" width="72" /><thr:total>0</thr:total><content type="html">"Final score: 3-2. Gabi scored all three goals!" read my brother's text message last Thursday morning.

I couldn't believe it. Just like that, Gabi's twelve month winless streak in football was finally over. For the first time in over a year, Gabi was in the winning team. And he scored all the goals to boot!

Gabi started playing football in April 2008 when he was barely three years old. We 
&lt;p&gt;&lt;a href="http://feedads.g.doubleclick.net/~a/dZXY-F-M-aj_rAw0F-v11Pisyto/0/da"&gt;&lt;img src="http://feedads.g.doubleclick.net/~a/dZXY-F-M-aj_rAw0F-v11Pisyto/0/di" border="0" ismap="true"&gt;&lt;/img&gt;&lt;/a&gt;&lt;br/&gt;
&lt;a href="http://feedads.g.doubleclick.net/~a/dZXY-F-M-aj_rAw0F-v11Pisyto/1/da"&gt;&lt;img src="http://feedads.g.doubleclick.net/~a/dZXY-F-M-aj_rAw0F-v11Pisyto/1/di" border="0" ismap="true"&gt;&lt;/img&gt;&lt;/a&gt;&lt;/p&gt;&lt;img src="http://feeds.feedburner.com/~r/Ram-blings/~4/HIIRK1pmu6k" height="1" width="1"/&gt;</content><feedburner:origLink>http://vagaroso.blogspot.com/2011/04/goooooaaaaal.html</feedburner:origLink></entry><entry gd:etag="W/&quot;CEcCRH46fSp7ImA9WhZSEE8.&quot;"><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-6788431392003616537.post-1500561473049152618</id><published>2011-03-25T11:01:00.000+08:00</published><updated>2011-03-25T11:01:05.015+08:00</updated><app:edited xmlns:app="http://www.w3.org/2007/app">2011-03-25T11:01:05.015+08:00</app:edited><title>Smart Girl, This One!</title><link rel="replies" type="application/atom+xml" href="http://vagaroso.blogspot.com/feeds/1500561473049152618/comments/default" title="Post Comments" /><link rel="replies" type="text/html" href="http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=6788431392003616537&amp;postID=1500561473049152618" title="0 Comments" /><link rel="edit" type="application/atom+xml" href="http://www.blogger.com/feeds/6788431392003616537/posts/default/1500561473049152618?v=2" /><link rel="self" type="application/atom+xml" href="http://www.blogger.com/feeds/6788431392003616537/posts/default/1500561473049152618?v=2" /><link rel="alternate" type="text/html" href="http://feedproxy.google.com/~r/Ram-blings/~3/9WOaM60BigM/smart-girl-this-one.html" title="Smart Girl, This One!" /><author><name>RAM</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/08234109358271601915</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel="http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail" width="22" height="32" src="http://3.bp.blogspot.com/__l08W2Cl5EE/SrseHEr99mI/AAAAAAAAAP4/8cV47qd48qg/S220/gabi051109.jpg" /></author><media:thumbnail xmlns:media="http://search.yahoo.com/mrss/" url="https://lh4.googleusercontent.com/-Ob93L2wsPrw/TYwEQ_D4cFI/AAAAAAAAAms/5gvMS8ky8lc/s72-c/IMG_0814.JPG" height="72" width="72" /><thr:total>0</thr:total><content type="html">
Bela: I'm thirsty, Mommy. Can I have water please?

Mommy: I'm sorry, Bela, but I don't have water with me here. Why don't you go down and ask yaya for a glass of water.

Bela: But why me, Mommy?

Mommy: Because you're the one who's thirsty, my love.

Bela: Okay ... Do you also want some water, Mommy?

Mommy: Why, thank you, Bela. Yes, I'd like to have some water too.

Bela: Okay, Mommy, so you 
&lt;p&gt;&lt;a href="http://feedads.g.doubleclick.net/~a/jJpr_A_e7L3_y-bQAVAZ2j1zvSQ/0/da"&gt;&lt;img src="http://feedads.g.doubleclick.net/~a/jJpr_A_e7L3_y-bQAVAZ2j1zvSQ/0/di" border="0" ismap="true"&gt;&lt;/img&gt;&lt;/a&gt;&lt;br/&gt;
&lt;a href="http://feedads.g.doubleclick.net/~a/jJpr_A_e7L3_y-bQAVAZ2j1zvSQ/1/da"&gt;&lt;img src="http://feedads.g.doubleclick.net/~a/jJpr_A_e7L3_y-bQAVAZ2j1zvSQ/1/di" border="0" ismap="true"&gt;&lt;/img&gt;&lt;/a&gt;&lt;/p&gt;&lt;img src="http://feeds.feedburner.com/~r/Ram-blings/~4/9WOaM60BigM" height="1" width="1"/&gt;</content><feedburner:origLink>http://vagaroso.blogspot.com/2011/03/smart-girl-this-one.html</feedburner:origLink></entry><entry gd:etag="W/&quot;C0ENRHg4fyp7ImA9Wx9aGE4.&quot;"><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-6788431392003616537.post-5741449561767595325</id><published>2011-03-11T16:21:00.000+08:00</published><updated>2011-03-11T16:21:35.637+08:00</updated><app:edited xmlns:app="http://www.w3.org/2007/app">2011-03-11T16:21:35.637+08:00</app:edited><title>When Life Imitates Art</title><link rel="replies" type="application/atom+xml" href="http://vagaroso.blogspot.com/feeds/5741449561767595325/comments/default" title="Post Comments" /><link rel="replies" type="text/html" href="http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=6788431392003616537&amp;postID=5741449561767595325" title="0 Comments" /><link rel="edit" type="application/atom+xml" href="http://www.blogger.com/feeds/6788431392003616537/posts/default/5741449561767595325?v=2" /><link rel="self" type="application/atom+xml" href="http://www.blogger.com/feeds/6788431392003616537/posts/default/5741449561767595325?v=2" /><link rel="alternate" type="text/html" href="http://feedproxy.google.com/~r/Ram-blings/~3/16CZDC-StSs/when-life-imitates-art.html" title="When Life Imitates Art" /><author><name>RAM</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/08234109358271601915</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel="http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail" width="22" height="32" src="http://3.bp.blogspot.com/__l08W2Cl5EE/SrseHEr99mI/AAAAAAAAAP4/8cV47qd48qg/S220/gabi051109.jpg" /></author><media:thumbnail xmlns:media="http://search.yahoo.com/mrss/" url="http://img.youtube.com/vi/qjDU9SsVgck/default.jpg" height="72" width="72" /><thr:total>0</thr:total><content type="html">Or when Gabi pretends to be his favorite zombie going against imaginary plants.


&lt;p&gt;&lt;a href="http://feedads.g.doubleclick.net/~a/DoYlNn4-xO6s_IdU38HkZAKfL5c/0/da"&gt;&lt;img src="http://feedads.g.doubleclick.net/~a/DoYlNn4-xO6s_IdU38HkZAKfL5c/0/di" border="0" ismap="true"&gt;&lt;/img&gt;&lt;/a&gt;&lt;br/&gt;
&lt;a href="http://feedads.g.doubleclick.net/~a/DoYlNn4-xO6s_IdU38HkZAKfL5c/1/da"&gt;&lt;img src="http://feedads.g.doubleclick.net/~a/DoYlNn4-xO6s_IdU38HkZAKfL5c/1/di" border="0" ismap="true"&gt;&lt;/img&gt;&lt;/a&gt;&lt;/p&gt;&lt;img src="http://feeds.feedburner.com/~r/Ram-blings/~4/16CZDC-StSs" height="1" width="1"/&gt;</content><feedburner:origLink>http://vagaroso.blogspot.com/2011/03/when-life-imitates-art.html</feedburner:origLink></entry><entry gd:etag="W/&quot;A0IFRXg_cSp7ImA9Wx9aF0w.&quot;"><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-6788431392003616537.post-4889045308998970980</id><published>2011-03-09T16:11:00.001+08:00</published><updated>2011-03-10T09:11:54.649+08:00</updated><app:edited xmlns:app="http://www.w3.org/2007/app">2011-03-10T09:11:54.649+08:00</app:edited><title>Pretty in Pink</title><link rel="replies" type="application/atom+xml" href="http://vagaroso.blogspot.com/feeds/4889045308998970980/comments/default" title="Post Comments" /><link rel="replies" type="text/html" href="http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=6788431392003616537&amp;postID=4889045308998970980" title="0 Comments" /><link rel="edit" type="application/atom+xml" href="http://www.blogger.com/feeds/6788431392003616537/posts/default/4889045308998970980?v=2" /><link rel="self" type="application/atom+xml" href="http://www.blogger.com/feeds/6788431392003616537/posts/default/4889045308998970980?v=2" /><link rel="alternate" type="text/html" href="http://feedproxy.google.com/~r/Ram-blings/~3/y9CDmn1VbO0/pretty-in-pink.html" title="Pretty in Pink" /><author><name>RAM</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/08234109358271601915</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel="http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail" width="22" height="32" src="http://3.bp.blogspot.com/__l08W2Cl5EE/SrseHEr99mI/AAAAAAAAAP4/8cV47qd48qg/S220/gabi051109.jpg" /></author><media:thumbnail xmlns:media="http://search.yahoo.com/mrss/" url="https://lh5.googleusercontent.com/-s1Bf5pIj6hs/TXc0V96eG8I/AAAAAAAAAmo/Amxf31bZt5k/s72-c/IMG_1820.JPG" height="72" width="72" /><thr:total>0</thr:total><content type="html">
Bela now likes to pick the clothes she wears. And she always chooses pink. From top to toes.

I wonder what it is with the color  pink and young girls? Are girls born to like the color? Or am I just perpetuating a cliche? Are parents --- and grandparents! --- just brainwashed by manufacturers of kids' clothes and toys into thinking that all girls like pink?

And what if a young girl shows 
&lt;p&gt;&lt;a href="http://feedads.g.doubleclick.net/~a/1aYSTcBqDYqeyPN-OsXp19PtZO8/0/da"&gt;&lt;img src="http://feedads.g.doubleclick.net/~a/1aYSTcBqDYqeyPN-OsXp19PtZO8/0/di" border="0" ismap="true"&gt;&lt;/img&gt;&lt;/a&gt;&lt;br/&gt;
&lt;a href="http://feedads.g.doubleclick.net/~a/1aYSTcBqDYqeyPN-OsXp19PtZO8/1/da"&gt;&lt;img src="http://feedads.g.doubleclick.net/~a/1aYSTcBqDYqeyPN-OsXp19PtZO8/1/di" border="0" ismap="true"&gt;&lt;/img&gt;&lt;/a&gt;&lt;/p&gt;&lt;img src="http://feeds.feedburner.com/~r/Ram-blings/~4/y9CDmn1VbO0" height="1" width="1"/&gt;</content><feedburner:origLink>http://vagaroso.blogspot.com/2011/03/pretty-in-pink.html</feedburner:origLink></entry><entry gd:etag="W/&quot;C0UERHY9eCp7ImA9Wx9bGUg.&quot;"><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-6788431392003616537.post-5184754144750902639</id><published>2011-03-01T11:46:00.000+08:00</published><updated>2011-03-01T11:46:45.860+08:00</updated><app:edited xmlns:app="http://www.w3.org/2007/app">2011-03-01T11:46:45.860+08:00</app:edited><title>The Fall. The Hurt.</title><link rel="replies" type="application/atom+xml" href="http://vagaroso.blogspot.com/feeds/5184754144750902639/comments/default" title="Post Comments" /><link rel="replies" type="text/html" href="http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=6788431392003616537&amp;postID=5184754144750902639" title="0 Comments" /><link rel="edit" type="application/atom+xml" href="http://www.blogger.com/feeds/6788431392003616537/posts/default/5184754144750902639?v=2" /><link rel="self" type="application/atom+xml" href="http://www.blogger.com/feeds/6788431392003616537/posts/default/5184754144750902639?v=2" /><link rel="alternate" type="text/html" href="http://feedproxy.google.com/~r/Ram-blings/~3/IoQ5MLpRnOs/fall-hurt.html" title="The Fall. The Hurt." /><author><name>RAM</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/08234109358271601915</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel="http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail" width="22" height="32" src="http://3.bp.blogspot.com/__l08W2Cl5EE/SrseHEr99mI/AAAAAAAAAP4/8cV47qd48qg/S220/gabi051109.jpg" /></author><thr:total>0</thr:total><content type="html">





I saw he was hurting. After the fall. Not only his scratched knee but more so his bruised ego. But he didn't show it and put up a brave front. He walked it off with a slight limp and a brave smile.

At times like this, all you can do is give him a high five and embrace him. Not too tight nor too long lest you embarrass him in front of his friends. No need to say, "it's okay, my son, you did
&lt;p&gt;&lt;a href="http://feedads.g.doubleclick.net/~a/EcacC4U36SBVtEVD6yUOjikZb-U/0/da"&gt;&lt;img src="http://feedads.g.doubleclick.net/~a/EcacC4U36SBVtEVD6yUOjikZb-U/0/di" border="0" ismap="true"&gt;&lt;/img&gt;&lt;/a&gt;&lt;br/&gt;
&lt;a href="http://feedads.g.doubleclick.net/~a/EcacC4U36SBVtEVD6yUOjikZb-U/1/da"&gt;&lt;img src="http://feedads.g.doubleclick.net/~a/EcacC4U36SBVtEVD6yUOjikZb-U/1/di" border="0" ismap="true"&gt;&lt;/img&gt;&lt;/a&gt;&lt;/p&gt;&lt;img src="http://feeds.feedburner.com/~r/Ram-blings/~4/IoQ5MLpRnOs" height="1" width="1"/&gt;</content><feedburner:origLink>http://vagaroso.blogspot.com/2011/03/fall-hurt.html</feedburner:origLink></entry><entry gd:etag="W/&quot;A0cAR3o8eCp7ImA9Wx9bFkw.&quot;"><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-6788431392003616537.post-2232683438195577689</id><published>2011-02-25T15:28:00.001+08:00</published><updated>2011-02-25T15:30:46.470+08:00</updated><app:edited xmlns:app="http://www.w3.org/2007/app">2011-02-25T15:30:46.470+08:00</app:edited><title>The Shy One</title><link rel="replies" type="application/atom+xml" href="http://vagaroso.blogspot.com/feeds/2232683438195577689/comments/default" title="Post Comments" /><link rel="replies" type="text/html" href="http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=6788431392003616537&amp;postID=2232683438195577689" title="0 Comments" /><link rel="edit" type="application/atom+xml" href="http://www.blogger.com/feeds/6788431392003616537/posts/default/2232683438195577689?v=2" /><link rel="self" type="application/atom+xml" href="http://www.blogger.com/feeds/6788431392003616537/posts/default/2232683438195577689?v=2" /><link rel="alternate" type="text/html" href="http://feedproxy.google.com/~r/Ram-blings/~3/mtAwhNzFWR0/shy-one.html" title="The Shy One" /><author><name>RAM</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/08234109358271601915</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel="http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail" width="22" height="32" src="http://3.bp.blogspot.com/__l08W2Cl5EE/SrseHEr99mI/AAAAAAAAAP4/8cV47qd48qg/S220/gabi051109.jpg" /></author><media:thumbnail xmlns:media="http://search.yahoo.com/mrss/" url="http://3.bp.blogspot.com/-6RHCZ5TX2dQ/TWdXjvO8M5I/AAAAAAAAAmc/mfc-3yCYuBk/s72-c/01.JPG" height="72" width="72" /><thr:total>0</thr:total><content type="html">Gabi is outgoing and very friendly. Give him a few minutes in a new place and he quickly makes friends. "Hi, my name is Gabi. Can I be your friend?" is always his icebreaker. And almost always he ends up with new play mates for the day.

Bela is the shy one. When in a new place she is at first uneasy, preferring to stay at a safe distance. She has to survey the field first and see if she will fit
&lt;p&gt;&lt;a href="http://feedads.g.doubleclick.net/~a/h4DQbTTNxTM7ITdeFYRWGD8x6Lg/0/da"&gt;&lt;img src="http://feedads.g.doubleclick.net/~a/h4DQbTTNxTM7ITdeFYRWGD8x6Lg/0/di" border="0" ismap="true"&gt;&lt;/img&gt;&lt;/a&gt;&lt;br/&gt;
&lt;a href="http://feedads.g.doubleclick.net/~a/h4DQbTTNxTM7ITdeFYRWGD8x6Lg/1/da"&gt;&lt;img src="http://feedads.g.doubleclick.net/~a/h4DQbTTNxTM7ITdeFYRWGD8x6Lg/1/di" border="0" ismap="true"&gt;&lt;/img&gt;&lt;/a&gt;&lt;/p&gt;&lt;img src="http://feeds.feedburner.com/~r/Ram-blings/~4/mtAwhNzFWR0" height="1" width="1"/&gt;</content><feedburner:origLink>http://vagaroso.blogspot.com/2011/02/shy-one.html</feedburner:origLink></entry><entry gd:etag="W/&quot;CEYCQXg-eip7ImA9Wx9WFE8.&quot;"><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-6788431392003616537.post-2191081184725258364</id><published>2011-01-19T15:20:00.002+08:00</published><updated>2011-01-19T15:29:20.652+08:00</updated><app:edited xmlns:app="http://www.w3.org/2007/app">2011-01-19T15:29:20.652+08:00</app:edited><title>Bela Takes the Throne</title><link rel="replies" type="application/atom+xml" href="http://vagaroso.blogspot.com/feeds/2191081184725258364/comments/default" title="Post Comments" /><link rel="replies" type="text/html" href="http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=6788431392003616537&amp;postID=2191081184725258364" title="0 Comments" /><link rel="edit" type="application/atom+xml" href="http://www.blogger.com/feeds/6788431392003616537/posts/default/2191081184725258364?v=2" /><link rel="self" type="application/atom+xml" href="http://www.blogger.com/feeds/6788431392003616537/posts/default/2191081184725258364?v=2" /><link rel="alternate" type="text/html" href="http://feedproxy.google.com/~r/Ram-blings/~3/3pwDrLyjw4I/bela-takes-throne.html" title="Bela Takes the Throne" /><author><name>RAM</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/08234109358271601915</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel="http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail" width="22" height="32" src="http://3.bp.blogspot.com/__l08W2Cl5EE/SrseHEr99mI/AAAAAAAAAP4/8cV47qd48qg/S220/gabi051109.jpg" /></author><media:thumbnail xmlns:media="http://search.yahoo.com/mrss/" url="http://4.bp.blogspot.com/__l08W2Cl5EE/TTZan0cGPfI/AAAAAAAAAmU/V5wKaW01Sfk/s72-c/IMG_0744.JPG" height="72" width="72" /><thr:total>0</thr:total><content type="html">
It's Bela's turn to start potty training. We've tried to potty train her for a couple of months now but so far we've not been successful. She can be adamant about things. If she doesn't want, she doesn't want. And at times she can be stubborn for the sake of being stubborn. Sutil, it's called in Tagalog. (Something Bela obviously got from her mother. Snicker, snicker. )
 It's also not easy when 
&lt;p&gt;&lt;a href="http://feedads.g.doubleclick.net/~a/nkOt7eC4Lb5m9JICLKH3DOFvcsw/0/da"&gt;&lt;img src="http://feedads.g.doubleclick.net/~a/nkOt7eC4Lb5m9JICLKH3DOFvcsw/0/di" border="0" ismap="true"&gt;&lt;/img&gt;&lt;/a&gt;&lt;br/&gt;
&lt;a href="http://feedads.g.doubleclick.net/~a/nkOt7eC4Lb5m9JICLKH3DOFvcsw/1/da"&gt;&lt;img src="http://feedads.g.doubleclick.net/~a/nkOt7eC4Lb5m9JICLKH3DOFvcsw/1/di" border="0" ismap="true"&gt;&lt;/img&gt;&lt;/a&gt;&lt;/p&gt;&lt;img src="http://feeds.feedburner.com/~r/Ram-blings/~4/3pwDrLyjw4I" height="1" width="1"/&gt;</content><feedburner:origLink>http://vagaroso.blogspot.com/2011/01/bela-takes-throne.html</feedburner:origLink></entry><entry gd:etag="W/&quot;DEcFR3k4cCp7ImA9Wx9SEko.&quot;"><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-6788431392003616537.post-3777108702652121237</id><published>2010-12-02T15:46:00.000+08:00</published><updated>2010-12-02T15:46:56.738+08:00</updated><app:edited xmlns:app="http://www.w3.org/2007/app">2010-12-02T15:46:56.738+08:00</app:edited><title>Gabi's Euphemisms</title><link rel="replies" type="application/atom+xml" href="http://vagaroso.blogspot.com/feeds/3777108702652121237/comments/default" title="Post Comments" /><link rel="replies" type="text/html" href="http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=6788431392003616537&amp;postID=3777108702652121237" title="0 Comments" /><link rel="edit" type="application/atom+xml" href="http://www.blogger.com/feeds/6788431392003616537/posts/default/3777108702652121237?v=2" /><link rel="self" type="application/atom+xml" href="http://www.blogger.com/feeds/6788431392003616537/posts/default/3777108702652121237?v=2" /><link rel="alternate" type="text/html" href="http://feedproxy.google.com/~r/Ram-blings/~3/cmIbtubrpKg/gabis-euphemisms.html" title="Gabi's Euphemisms" /><author><name>RAM</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/08234109358271601915</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel="http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail" width="22" height="32" src="http://3.bp.blogspot.com/__l08W2Cl5EE/SrseHEr99mI/AAAAAAAAAP4/8cV47qd48qg/S220/gabi051109.jpg" /></author><thr:total>0</thr:total><content type="html">Here are samples of Gabi's euphemisms. Or as we call them in Filipino, palusot.
"I'm not lying. I'm just joking."
"I"m not a cry baby. I just like to whine a lot."
"I'm not eating the fat. I'm just tasting it."
&lt;p&gt;&lt;a href="http://feedads.g.doubleclick.net/~a/40peGBeH_cXAOVG6gDHFj8D0bkE/0/da"&gt;&lt;img src="http://feedads.g.doubleclick.net/~a/40peGBeH_cXAOVG6gDHFj8D0bkE/0/di" border="0" ismap="true"&gt;&lt;/img&gt;&lt;/a&gt;&lt;br/&gt;
&lt;a href="http://feedads.g.doubleclick.net/~a/40peGBeH_cXAOVG6gDHFj8D0bkE/1/da"&gt;&lt;img src="http://feedads.g.doubleclick.net/~a/40peGBeH_cXAOVG6gDHFj8D0bkE/1/di" border="0" ismap="true"&gt;&lt;/img&gt;&lt;/a&gt;&lt;/p&gt;&lt;img src="http://feeds.feedburner.com/~r/Ram-blings/~4/cmIbtubrpKg" height="1" width="1"/&gt;</content><feedburner:origLink>http://vagaroso.blogspot.com/2010/12/gabis-euphemisms.html</feedburner:origLink></entry></feed>

