To My Superman, Dad

One of my earliest memories I've had was me in my little red pinafore around the age of 4/5 going to a Chinese kindergarten. Then, the uniform was as such that little girls had to wear red pinafores to school. And the only thing that I can recall about that dark dark time (in my opinion pretty darn dark because I could speak zero Mandarin then), besides peeing my pants in front of everyone, was my dad in his necktie, carrying me as I cried and said I didn't wanna go to school.

Another memory I have (though I can honestly say with full conviction that I have ZERO memories of this) of my dad and I is this one photo of me when I was a tiny little baby. He was holding baby me by the back of my neck while propping me up by my bum.

I remember seeing that photo for the first time when I was about 11 or 12 years old. It's actually my dad's favorite photo of me. For as long as I can remember, my dad has always talked about it. He must really like that photo haha.

But enough about all these little snippets of memories. As I write this, looking back today in retrospect, I can't quite recall my dad being very vocal about things. When it came to punishing us, mom was always the one in charge. Whenever it came to us asking the parents for permission, it was always/ mostly through mom's approval. Dad seldom got mad, but instead would get impatient. He'd get impatient when we would get ready to go out to eat. He was always (even till this very day) the first to be downstairs and ready to head out. It's as if his insatiable love and passion about food motivates him to be on his toes, ready for his feast. He wouldn't say it but I guess deep down we all knew that dad was just tremendously excited to be trying out the new restaurants that he had heard about (especially since it was all word-of-mouth then). Needless to say, dad's true love, besides mom, was food. But that love was also translated in the fantastically amazing yet simple cooking. Both my parents are amazing cooks and I've learnt so much from the both of them. Growing up, I always remember dad in his apron & his top off, cooking for us but also calling out to me to make sure I'm standing next to him so I could "learn how to cook". He used to follow it by saying "I tell you ah, next time it'll come in handy when you go to university". And actually, it was my dad who taught me how to cook for the first time in my life. The first thing I learnt how to cook (instant noodles do not count) was fried eggs.

I was about 8 years old. It was a Sunday morning, and the night before, dad had told me that he was going to teach me how to fry an egg. Then, we lived in a house where our "wet" kitchen was actually not within the house. But sorta adjacent to the kitchen door (we had 2 entrances to the house, one the main door, which was used when guests came/ late at night, the other, the kitchen door). I used what felt like a giant kuali and fried my first ever egg. I remember that morning, I was so excited to learn it that I sprinted down to fry the egg and started without my dad (I had seen the adults do it so many times I figured it was a piece of cake to do it myself. And of course, SUCCESS!) then as I was almost done frying my first egg, he appeared and said that it looked good! I could remember the overwhelming feeling I got from a successful fried egg + dad's approval + most importantly, not killing myself haha. Right afterwards, he got me to fry 4 more & I was more than happy to do so. Possibly one of the best days of my life, etched in my memory for the rest of my life. 

Dad was always excited about food. He taught my brother and I how to eat steak, salmon, to use cutlery properly, and even why it's important to know how to use chopsticks. Since we (my brother and I) were young, he and mom had always done everything in their power to make sure that we were well exposed to various kinds of tastes, cultures, and backgrounds. If you know me well enough, you'd know that I'm always super down to try new things. Be it foods, books, activities, or even fashion styles, I'm always down. And it's all thanks to my parents. My parents also made it a point to get both of us to learn how to do menial tasks. From whistling (this is also another one of my favorite memories! But I'll save that for another time), to changing a light bulb, dad (& mom) taught us to how to buy newspaper from the uncle downstairs without being scared. Now you know where I learnt how to do so many things.

So today, I honor not only my father, but both my parents for being supportive of one another, and for teaching me that both mom and dad are equal. What mom can do, dad can as well. Vice versa. Growing up, I never saw the binary of what men should only do, etc. Instead, I saw both my parents on equal playing fields as men & women and I'm tremendously grateful for having such fantabulous parents like these two individuals (although like every human being, they have their flaws and I can't stand them sometimes -They, me too, I'm sure-) but both of them have taught my brother and I ample things that many seem to take for granted.

So thank you, mom & dad. Thank you for being such superheroes!


Love ya!