Free Diary of an Expat in Singapore by Jennifer Gargiulo Page B

friend brought over the films and Eliot watched back-to-back Winx… for five hours. Now she’s hooked. Just yesterday, I was ever so lightly nudging her toward medical school: “Wouldn’t it be great to cure people?” But now she’s thinking: “Wouldn’t it be great to wear short, glittery skirts?”
    The other night in bed Eliot pondered her future movie career as one of the Winx: “When I get taller I’m going to be in the Winx movie, I can be Bloom even though I don’t have the right hair but that’s my favourite one…”
    Alexander briefly looked up from his bed, where he was reading ‘How to Design Manga Comics’, to ask: “What? Eliot is going to be in a movie?”
    “Yes, when I’m big. But Mommy, I’ll have to show my belly button like they do…”
    What? No, I don’t like it. I mean (covering up my innate ultra-conservative stance), well sometimes you can but not always. (I can be really tough when I have to.)
“My name is Eliot and my Daddy ate a rabbit.”
    Lately, my kids have started to shift from the whole puppy idea to the more attainable bunny idea. Though we still compulsively watch episodes of ‘The Dog Whisperer’, I noticed the subject in their conversations has definitely changed.
    Eliot: “I really want a rabbit. I want a nice white fluffy one.”
    Alexander: “Well, how would you feel if you were a rabbit with brown spots and nobody wanted you?”
    “Sad?”
    Alexander: “Yes, so let’s not say for sure that we want a white one. We’ll just know when we see them all which one to choose.”
    Eliot: “Okay, I’ll take very good care of our bunny and I’ll tell Daddy not to eat it.”
    A somewhat scary train of thought, but the girl has a point. Her dad is from Verona and
Veronesi
are known to eat rabbit (you can put that down next to the horse meat already mentioned). He mainly ate it as a child and once mentioned how delicious it is with polenta (Italian-style cooked cornbread). This admission so impressed Eliot that I even heard her introduce herself by saying: “My name is Eliot and my Daddy ate a rabbit.”
    The heartless dad is still holding out on getting them a bunny but he has offered them this not-at-all trauma-tizing concession: “Sure, you can have one when we get to Italy. There are plenty of rabbits at the supermarket.”
“Can we go to Hong Kong to get an eraser?”
    If you have a five-year-old expat kid in Singapore, do not be surprised. To them, this is a totally plausible request. When I went to pick Eliot up from school today she showed me a tiny eraser that her friend gave her.
    “She got it in Hong Kong. Can we go to Hong Kong to get more?”
    Hmmm, you do realize that Hong Kong is four hours away by plane from Singapore?
    “Well, four hours is not one hundred.”
    The crushing logic of a five-year-old.
After watching a music video with Taylor Swift: “Is this girl in jail?”
    No, why? “Because Justin Beever is in jail. Maddie told Katie and Katie told me. Because Maddie sometimes looks at the news. A very important girl asked Justin Beever for chopsticks but he didn’t give them to her… so that’s why he went to jail.” So this is how rumours in the entertainment world get started. By first graders… who knew?
The fact that Eliot prefaces most of her questions with the words
In real life…
leads me to suspect she’s living in a parallel universe.
    If she found herself at a wishing well, she says she would wish for poor people to have houses with comfortable beds, to be a fairy, and to have a puppy. She also wishes beds were made of jello: “So we could bounce on them.”
“I can be a princess?”
    In my university classes, we’ve been reviewing the hazards of gender-specific toys and my students have been writing on how market-driven princess paraphernalia can negatively (or not) influence a girl’s personality and ambitions. As a mother of a five-year-old daughter with a love for everything ‘princess’, this gives me food for