perfectly you

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You, oh you, with your mess of brown hair hanging perpetually in your eyes.

“If our baby is as cute as Fang was, I’ll be happy.” I said to your Papa. Before we met you, before we knew if you were going to be our babygirl or babyboy.

And here you are, undoubtedly your Papa’s daughter and yet, on second glance, so much like your Na Nampeung it’s uncanny. The same droopy cheeks, and the curls that stop everyone in Singapore in their tracks, unable to pass on by without asking “Is that natural?”, as if I would perm my toddler’s hair. I smile and nod, “Yes, it’s natural.”, just as I used to when I was 12 and carrying your Na Nampueng through the supermarket in Bangkok.

Half as cute. Oh, you lived up to that wish and then some.

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