I thought I could get by with just love and patience. How very naive was I. After three and a half years on the job, I had used many tricks that the child-raising experts had advised against.  I found them essential to my sanity and really admired those parents who could do without them. On the top of my list is bribery.

Ever since my daughter started to grasp the concept of negotiating, we've been bribing her into good behaviors. You get a candy if you brush your teeth. You can watch TV if you stop fussing. You get ice cream if you could stay through your dance class without crying. Can I get two was her standard response. Not a day goes by without a bargaining of some sort going on in our house with us, the parents, clearly on the defense.  I think our daughter may very well grow up to be a negotiator, maybe an agent of some sort.

Next on my list comes coercion. You are not watching TV for a week if you don't go to your music classes. You are not getting any bedtime story if you don't go brush your teeth right this moment. You don't have to eat your dinner but you are not eating anything else either. Go take a bath right now or I'll be very mad.  Once I took away my daughter's TV and computer privilege for a week, and found myself suffering more than she did:  In order to enforce the restriction, we could not watch TV nor go online, nor play computer games either. About after three days, I turned on the TV the minute she fell asleep.

When both of the above failed, yelling out load naturally comes out. Stop that. Come over here. No. I said No. The yelling worked the first few times when my daughter was not used to the loud noise. After a while, noise it was to her. If she were startled she'd look at you as if to say why were you interrupting me and went right on to test your next move. My daughter weights about 30 lbs. now so I can still pick her up and remove her from her trouble-making scene. I'll need to work on my next move when she grows too heavy for me to carry her.

Remember when your baby uttering their first words, the sweet sounds of angels. When did the angelic sounds turn into dictatorial commands and whining? Mom, I want to eat candy. I want to watch TV. I want water. I want food. I want to go to the playground. If you gave her the look, my daughter would add "please". Since she was born, we responded to her each wince and call. What else did you expect when she grew used to it but treated you like a servant. I found my hearing not as good as before when her speech ability became more developed each day. Curious enough, she seemed to have developed the same selective hearing problem as well as I did. She does not hear "Dinner!" but catches "Ice cream!" right away. She does not respond to "Bath time!" but shows up in an instance when "Elmo's on!"

Selective sights go hand in hand with selective hearing. As my daughter grows, I don't see dirt on her cloths or messy rooms as clearly as I did. Sure, I wanted my house to look presentable. Sure, I wanted her to look adorable, all the time. Picking up after her one day, my mother's voice surfaced in my head: I spend all my time picking up after you. Of course, she was talking to my brother. Now, only when our energetic mess-making bunny is re-charging herself overnight do we pick the room clean. As to how she looks in her paint-stained, dirt-stained or mud-stained cloths, you know what, I think she looks adorable in them, I really do.

Experts may call this electronic baby-sitting. I called it necessary. How else would I be able to get dinner ready or work on my Paradox project? Thank goodness to Sesame Street and Dragon Tales in the afternoon, or else we would be having Cup of Noodles everyday. The production of many issues of Paradox was done with the help of toddler's CD ROM games. Considering the first time I touched a computer with a line display screen and keyboard only was after college in a short BASIC programming class, it is an improvement that my daughter at age three could move a mouse at ease and shut down Windows when she's done with it.

It is true that a three year old ends all her sentences with a question mark. Does Elmo have a daddy and a mommy? Yes, dear. Why does Elmo have a daddy and a mommy? Well, do you have a daddy and a mommy. Rhetorical question, in case you hadn't had any chance to use it all your life. It came in handy for those deep questions that only another question could answer. Can Blue come with me to the playground? Can Lamb-my come, too? Can Rabbit come? Can Elmo come? Do you want to go to the playground or not. 

There were times in life when rhetorical question was not appropriate but euphemism was. Darn snails in my garden. I picked them up and threw them out of sight. Mommy, what are you doing? The snails needed to go somewhere else. Are they mommy and daddy of this baby snail here? Hmm, I guess they are. Are they bringing food back to the baby? They might but I think the baby snail can manage on its own eating my plants. It did. Farther down the garden, my daughter found the snails I threw away with cracked shells lying down side up. Are they sleeping? Yes, they are, dear. When are they going to get up? Look, a humming bird. When all else failed, distract. 

My daughter had always enjoyed her "just for fun" ballet classes. This summer I had registered her for two classes thinking that I could have a little break twice a week for myself, writing for Paradox. The first week went OK as  parents were allowed to observe the first class of each session.  I was in her classes. Her regular instructor was not teaching the summer session. The new instructor was a bit sterner in comparison but my daughter seemed to enjoy herself anyhow. The second week came, I dropped her off to the hands of the new instructor. The minute I turned my back on her, she started wailing. That week, she sat in my lap watching the whole time from the back of the class. The third week, we could not even get out of the door. Needless to say, nothing got accomplished during her ballet classes. The moral of the lesson is, don't count on anything and always have a Plan B.

Lastly but for sure not the least, it helps to be a good hugger and an observer. At the playground one day, my daughter approached another child at play and introduced herself: I am three. Can I play with you.  I knew it's time I stepped aside and watched over her for any danger but no longer in the action with her anymore. But be ready for bruises and bumps along the way. She might fall or she might get rejected. When she turned to you, all teary-eyed, all you could do was gave her a hug. All you wanted to do was gave her a hug. Knowing she had clung to you when you were all sweaty from your aerobic exercise but she missed you and hugged you when she's fresh out of bath ready for bed even though you hadn't taken a shower all day, you knew you would forever return the favor by standing by her ready with your hug.