Infant gratification

Oh, My, Godson. 

I'm officially obsessed. 

It's only day two, but I'm already convinced I'm in love with Kal Ezra, my godson. 

Funny I'm back paddling so furiously because not too long ago, I had decided I disliked kids. Maybe deep inside, I still do. But right now, I am so won over by this tiny being that there's nothing I won't do for him, including learning how to lactate, just for him. 

Pardon me for milking my newfound Godly status, but Kal is, after all, my first godson. 

As early as when he was merely a fetus, my friends had approached me to be their child's Godpa. 

"I will definitely say yes," I tapped on my iPhone, knowing -- but not fully understanding -- the extent of my promise.

Until two days after Kal's birth. 

On his birthday, I approached Kal cautiously in the Family Suite of Mount Alvernia. 

I tiptoed around Kal, and observed him politely, as if he were some Please-Do-Not-Touch artefact on display. 

I was not fully confident that I could cradle him in my arms without freaking out, the way first-time drivers panic in the face of traffic stress. 

It was only the next day when I received him with open arms.

And the moment his soft, warm body rested on my arms, I was enveloped by a sense of calm (no kidding). 

Perhaps, it was because I rubbed off that little fella's aura of peaceful slumber. Or maybe it was the work of my conscious self, reminding me not to drop him from my arms. 

Whatever the reason, I savoured every moment of watching Kal in his sleep. The way he stretched his tiny arm with a yawn. The way his wrinkled hand shivered in the cold. And the way he momentarily snuggled in his shawl bundle.

And it was then that, believe it or not, I felt a connection with Kal, whom I had been praying for every day, since I learnt of his existence.

And he will be in my prayers always -- that he be healthy, and grow up to be a kind, cheerful person.

Is Kal's birth preparing me for fatherhood? I don't know. What I do know is, he's preparing me to be Robin Hood.

I mean, with all the splurging and spoiling to come, there's no guarantee I won't need to rob a bank. 

But let's leave that to another day.

For now, there are more important issues at hand.

While my friends are cracking their heads, making lists of things to do - such as settling into a pattern of feeding, washing, and watching over Kal, as well as planning his next medical appointments, I too, am making my own list.

What terms of endearment should I call him? Ah Boy? No, that's too Cheena. Sayang? Erm, that's too Melayu. Ah, how about something more true-blue Peranakan, like a hearty, vulgar nickname such as "Kotek"? Or should I just modify his name - like Kally? Ezz? Oh, dear, Godparenting is so stressful.

And then, there's the headache of gifting. 

Sure, he's received my birthday Ang Pao. But what should I get him for his cukur rambut? Surely, I have to be more creative than just stuffing notes -- which must mean nothing to him at this age -- into red packets that look gigantic in his palm? And what souvenirs should I buy for him when I’m on holiday? Will he like trains? Can I secretly influence him to like swords, just like I did as a kid? Who says Godparenting is easy?!

And when he’s slightly older, I’ll have to regale him with stories. Of how Godpa had always loved kids so much. And of how Daddy and Godpa were such great pals from way back in university that they became roomates and looked out for each other while they studied in a foreign land. And how Godpa was the Best Man when Mummy and Daddy got married.

Yes, there are many things to do from now on.

According to the unwritten handbook of Godparenting, I am confident I’ll make a good Godpa.

For a start, the handbook states that all Godparents are to return their Godkids to their birth parents when they start to misbehave or cry. That, I can do.

Next, all Godkids are expected to run merrily towards Godparents – as if they were Santa Claus – whenever they drop by to visit them. That, I too, can manage.

Also, the rules have it that Godparents need not worry about their Godkids’ every progress in life, or feel the stress over their homework, or remember when their dental appointments are. Again, something I can do.

And because my responsibilities as a Godpa are so scaled down, there’s no reason I can’t do my part well – namely to pamper and love, and, more importantly, to nurture Kal as a complimentary father figure, so that he gets all the help he can, to grow up into one fine person.

Godpa loves you.