European invasion; soothing hurt children.

My half-French cousins are here to visit, so they'll be putting up at my place till next Saturday. They've been living in Germany since September ever since their dad got posted there for work, and my fourteen year-old cousin Laura has been telling me some interesting things about their life there.

"So, can you speak German now?"

"A little, only the basic words, but I hate it! Eww, it's so gross."

"Why? Is it because it mostly sounds like *snorts* *hacks up imaginary phlegm*"

"YA! It sounds so disgusting."

****

"Did you know that Germans think very differently from Singaporeans?"

"How so?"

"Well, when I asked my classmates if they wanted to be a millionaire, most of them said no. They said they don't want to get too comfortable."

"That's crazy. They wouldn't take a million even if someone gave it to them?"

"Yea."

Very different mentalities, don't you think? Singaporeans are never contented, whereas Germans are probably more satisfied with their lot in life. Cultural differences changes things so much.

It's a slight culture shock, because currently the bathroom is flooded with toiletries in familiar brands but in unfamiliar languages.

German, German and French, I think. Strange, right?

Anyway, a minor digression here. Valerie baked some pretty tasty cookies for Valentine's Day, so I asked her for the recipe. Here it is, immortalised on the blog so I can refer to here if I wanted to:

Wet ingredients:
3/4 cup brown sugar
1/2 cup white sugar
1 1/2 tsp vanilla essence
200g butter (melted)
1 egg (beaten)

Dry ingredients:
1/2 tsp salt
1 tsp baking powder
1 3/4 cup top flour

1 cup semi-sweet chococolate chips

1. Preheat oven to 200 degrees Celcius.
2. Mix wet ingredients.
3. Mix dry ingredients.
4. Mix wet and dry ingredients.
5. Add chocolate chips to cookie dough mixture.
6. Bake for 20 minutes at 200 degrees Celcius.

Personally, I don't really bother with mixing the wet and dry ingredients separately. I just sift the flour into the mixture of wet ingredients and get on with mixing with a whisk. I also tweaked the temperature and timing a bit, because I prefer my cookies less crispy. It really depends on how large your cookies are, so trial and error a bit. Oh, I was showing Syamil the recipe, and he muttered under his breath, "One egg beaten... With weapon?" I broke into delayed laughter.

Here are the cookies!



They don't look half-bad, do they? In fact, I think they look pretty appetising compared to most home-made cookies. Usually home-made cookies have a very flat and even texture, so they don't look saleable. Hmmm, I think I'm getting better at this.

My cousin helped out, and a tiny mishap occurred which I mulled over unnecessarily. Estelle, six years old, insisted on helping out, even though all of us knew she would more likely be a hindrance than a help. She was whining to her mother, and in her eagerness, foolishly touched the hot wire rack that just came out of the oven, despite my prior warning to be cautious. Her pretty little face contorted into an expression of pain and she started crying. Her mother then held her close, comforting her in low, soft kindly tones, like any mother should, and kissed her wee fingers.

I didn't think it was inappropriate for her mother to nurse her hurts with love and kisses, but wouldn't it more practical to run her hands under cold water? That would ensure that the burn wouldn't spread, y'know. And possibly alleviate the pain better. But that is a more business-like approach to take, and probably not very maternal. So, what would you do FIRST if your kid hurt herself?

a) Scold the object that caused grievous harm to your child. "Bad bicycle! Bad table! Bad floor!"
b) Be all soppy and cuddle your child, beseeching the child not to cry
c) Quickly whisk the child away to deliver the relevant first aid required

I suppose it is actually possible to do all three at once, alternating between putting the blame on the guilty inanimate object, cooing to your child, and cleaning the wound/applying medication. But option (a) is stupid, and option (b) only offers emotional relief, which I do not deem very practical.

I grudgingly obliged eventually, so I scooped out a portion of the dough for Estelle to manhandle with her unwashed hands. And of course, she refused to eat her contorted "E" shaped cookie afterwards, claiming to be leaving it for my mum, who isn't actually in Singapore because she flew over to the States to check out her new grandson. She's with my grandma, who wanted to check out her new great-grandson.

The allure of the new, fresh and just-arrived!