The Editor,
An open letter to all grandparents on Grandparents Day this Sunday.
"It's different, you know, when you look after your grandchildren," declared one of my senior friends. "You don't have to worry, just play with them."
On this note, I began my first year of being grandmother when Toby, my first grandchild, was born last year.
For the first two months, I hopped onto the bus and Skytrain to Burnaby to baby-sit Toby on alternate days.
Singing nursery rhymes and Sunday school songs became my lingua franca when I was with Toby.
Peering through his rounded black eyes, Toby must be wondering what these strange sounds and rhythms were. His eyes often rested on the round clock hanging in the hall. Responding to this, I went "Hickory Dickory Dock" - singing and reciting the rhyme.
Moreover, I composed my first rhyme for Toby: "Tick-tock says the clock, go to sleep baby Weng Lock -" (Weng Lock is Toby's Chinese name).
With Toby in my arms, I walked around the hall and kitchen. I interpreted his environment for him. "This is the fridge, the microwave - this is Mom and Dad's picture -"
When I sat down on the rocking chair and played with the toy duck and bee, I drew on my resources of onomatopoeia sounds.
"Quack, quack," says the duck, "buzz, buzz," goes the bee. Looking at the moving blinds and the resulting light and shadow images, Toby fell asleep contentedly in my arms.
During the next two months, Toby could smile. Now I knew for sure he was enjoying my rhymes and play movements like "hands up and down, in and out -"
Most of all, he was amused by my tongue and lip movements, as well as the resulting sounds that rolled out of my oral cavity.
Lai Ha Li Richmond
