Smells, Part 2

The world has become a more tolerable place after breakfast.

The consumption of a bowl of curry chicken noodles has definitely improved my disposition, if the looks of relief among my crew are to be believed. It has also helped to mask the flavour that has been assailing my nostrils the whole journey to the place where I am employed. I did not think that such a small change would have such an effect on me, after all, it was merely a citrus scent that has been replaced by something more .... flowery. Thank heaven for spice!

Come to think of it, I suppose it should have been no surprise. Alchemy has always shown that the slightest change to a formula would give rise to entirely different results. Of course, the boil-a-frog theory also predicts that my discomfort shall pass as my nostrils become acclimatized to the new smell. Just as it has become accustomed to the pungence of the bleach I use to clean my bathroom, or the fetor of my daughter's soil diapers.

On that last item, I am pleased to announce that she is, for the large part, toilet-trained. I am taking no chances while she sleeps or when we go on long drives, of course. I have also learned to interpret her little dance-on-the-spot moves: swinging her arms means she is just enjoying herself, while stamping and twisting (unaccompanied by arm movements) means she need to pee. Ah, what a proud father I am!

It was just two weeks ago that she took part in a mini-concert with the rest of her playgroup; a chance for the nursery school to showcase what they have been teaching the children, and to reassure parents that our lucre has not been squandered. As I observed to the missus then, I could not help but notice how all of us parents were alike. When our child came up with her class to do their song and dance, our eyes were drawn to our daughter and our daughter alone! Had it not been for the modern conveniences like digital cameras and handphone videos, I would have absolutely no idea what the other children were doing during the whole time! And every parent suffered from that same narrow field of concentration.

Naturally, I was also acting as a critic.
Item: motor-skills - within normal parameters;
Item: sense of timing - able to keep time with pre-recorded music;
Item: stage presence - constant smile and some mild flirting with the audience;
Item: understanding of the song - good for those in English, with occasional bloopers for those in Mandarin.
Overall performance: easily in the top ten percentile.

It helped that some of the others in her class were inept. No, I am not being harsh or biased against them. They were hopeless. Two boys did nothing but stand, staring blankly out at the crowd. Stage fright? Perhaps. Then there was the girl that hid her face in her hands and did not even try to acknowledge her parents. Clearly suffering from a bout of shy.

Is this how it begins? This comparison of genetic load? My child versus the rest of them? Where does this lead? Does this mean I have begun sliding down the slippery slope of 'how can you score lower that XXXXX in spelling? You must study harder' parental expectations? Am I becoming my father?

I hope not.

Smell

It is ten minutes before my meeting. I am hungry for want of breakfast. I have barely glanced through the weekend's reports, and what I have seen of my people's work does not make me particularly pleased with their performance.

Despite all of that, I cannot get one thing out of my head:

My wife has just changed laundry detergent on me, and I find this new smell on my clothes ... different, slightly disconcerting, and very distracting.