From Crawling to Driving

 Just so you know, I haven’t forgotten #4, #5, & #6.  We arrived in Singapore in spring ‘77 with 4 boys: #1 & #2 who were self-sufficient, #3 a toddler, #4 a babe in arms, and #5 on the way.

Upon arrival we stayed two weeks in the Goodwood Hotel. Even with the goodwill of the staff, hotel living for a family with small children was not practical. Next, we moved provisionally, into an elegant, grandiose, rather old, colonial mansion on Mount Pleasant Road.  This sparsely furnished residence, with servants attached, was designated for a senior executive couple who would use it for corporate entertainment. It was ill-suited for a young family on the grow.  

Our #4 was the child that I carried the longest, as you’ll see. He was on the small side with typical French coloring of light brown hair and long, thickly lashed blue eyes. He was of a peaceful, languid disposition. He was talking some and showed precocity with crayons and plain white paper. However, he wasn’t walking. At 12 months we were still packing him on our hips.

Our small house in France was perfect for learning to walk, having plenty of furniture & objects to pull up and stand erect. There & at the hotel, #4 was taking steps while holding on. Then came the Mount Pleasant mansion where his walking progress stalled. The rooms were, by comparison, gigantic and the furnishings were few and far apart. Our little 1-year old was obviously discouraged when he contemplated the long distances he must walk from point A to point B! To let us know, he would wail and reach in our direction to be carried. He was so pitiful, we simply had to comply.  For the entire 3 months that we stayed at Mt. Pleasant #4 refused to take his first independent steps. At last we moved to a split-level 3-story, fenced &  gated, bungalow on a rise with a front carport.  We now had a superb Chinese amah who efficiently prodded #4 toward becoming a biped. Finally, at 16 months, #4 deigned to take his first steps, & not a moment too soon because #5 arrived.  

It happened one morning soon after the birth of #5. We never saw it coming. #1 and #2 were at school. #3 was peacefully playing with lego. #4 was slowly toddling & easy to keep an eye on...or at least we thought. #5, a newborn, was wherever we placed him.  Suddenly, we heard a whoosh and a strange metallic landing from outside. The sound came from the front of the house. We, the amah and I, ran to look through the big bay window. There was my thrice-owned, square-back, cream yellow Mazda across the street, straddling an enormous culvert. Puzzled, we ran toward the distressed vehicle & climbed down into the culvert. We opened the front passenger door. There was #4 sitting in the driver’s seat with both hands on the steering wheel. His legs stuck straight out, not even reaching the edge of the seat. He smiled at us, as if to say, “Hop on in and I’ll take you for a spin!” 

We had no idea #4 was capable of such a feat. How did he open the car door? He was capable of climbing in, but how did he get the gear into neutral? Whatever the answers, #4 holds the record for being the earliest driver in the family.