Sweet kid on the block

Me and Rawtbhik. Yes, R-A-W-T-B-H-I-K, the sweet kid on the block. Malay, but with some Chinese blood somewhere up there, and a really rocker-cool-father who owns a barber shop. Six years old, and loves playing in the void deck with his nek nek (grandma) watching over him. Every time he sees my mother, he goes "Aunty Yellow Car!!!". When he sees me, he waves and calls "Aunty" sans "Yellow Car". On Sundays, he waits in anticipation at his 2nd floor unit window (french windows) to catch me walking briskly along the footpath downstairs. He will shout "Aunty!!!", before waving frantically with a megawatt smile. I always look back, and give him a big flying kiss, to which he never fails to return with an even bigger one.

The other day, he was playing with his friend, a six-year-old girl. Let's call her N. I casually asked both of them: "So which school are you in?" N immediately announces: "I am from Iman Kindergarten. I am from the best class. The highest of the three classes."

All this while, the little boy looks at his friend in wonder, jaw slightly dropping. I turn to him, and try my best to ask my question in a tone that doesn't demand for some achievement on his part. I say: "Which school do you go to?"

The sweet boy pauses really long and hems and haws, before volunteering: "I don't know the name, but it is at the corner shop there..."

It's really ok Rawtbhik. Enjoy your corner-shop-there school. You deserve to have fun. It's no fun being in the top class, if there ever was a top class in a kindergarten.