Fatimah’s 4th Birthday!

*Dedicated to my li’l’ PAWSOME sister, Fatimah*

Time seems to fly sometimes, without you even knowing it, and this was especially true with Fatimah! It seems like only yesterday when I was 7 and Fatimah was born into the family, bringing joy and laughter. I can clearly remember when she was small enough to fit into my hands and only just starting to crawl – but look where she is now! She’s walkin’, talkin’ and as much of a diva as you can be (a lovely diva, that is)! And today, she’s…

TURNING 4!!!!!!!!

Yep, you read it right! It’s the 3rd of January 2018, a.k.a Fatimah’s 4th birthday, one of the most special dates in our family!

Fatimah is one of the best people I know, and I’m so glad to have her as a sister! She’s very loving, and protective when it comes to her family! She’s really confident in speaking, like when she’s doing ‘The Fatimah Show’. Fatimah also loves cooking, and enjoys making cookery videos, just like Mamajee @adamdidam. She absolutely loves it when he comes to visit because they will be able to do it together! She also likes me to cook with her and I must admit, it’s quite an enjoyable experience! The first time I cooked with her, I was expecting her to ask for help, but in the end, she was the one helping me! I guess she’s mastered all the techniques because she always helps Mr Dad when he’s cooking!

Fatimah is also a playful and imaginative girl. She enjoys making stories with her toys, running a pretend restaurant with them as the customers and making sure her brother Ali has a part by putting him in the role of head chef, or going on a trek through the forest! Speaking of which, she’s VERY active! She always manages to get exercise, inside or outside, doing things like yoga and dancing, especially to Bollywood songs! But above all, she’s always well-behaved and highly mannered. Another favourite hobby of hers is arts and crafts. Cutting, sticking, painting, making collages, she loves it all! Not to forget, I’m glad that me and Fatimah share the same hobby, READING, as I have ORD (Obsessive Reading Disorder! 😉 ) She enjoys storytelling too!

These are only a few of the reasons I feel blessed to have Fatimah as a sister! I couldn’t have asked for more from God! On her 4th birthday, she’s already such a mature child! Fatimah, I wish you all the best for the future! May God shower you with His eternal blessings and keep you in His safeguarding! I wanted to give you a special birthday present for you this year, since you’re so grown up, and I decided that instead of a poem, I’d give you something special that you could keep with you, always. So here it is below – a special drawing of you, from a brother to a sister! I used lots and lots of colours to capture your loving, lively and playful personality, so it can remind you of your childhood, to tell you to always remain carefree, and of course, to let you remember that we will all be with you in your heart, and you’ll be in ours!

Fatimah BDay Artwork.jpg

Wishing you a very happy 4th birthday,

Your Lalajee,

The Pawsome Lion

p/s: Artwork above inspired by photo below.

Fatimah FidahFiss.jpg

He Came Back To Cornwall

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He came back to Cornwall.

He came back from the war with a bloody arm, a bandaged leg and a few scars on his face. He came back from the war to find his dear family in their little village. He came back from the war, but he wasn’t expecting this.

The year was 1919. After spending a few more months in London, he finally decided to travel back to his hometown. He needed to feel warmth again, he needed to feel love and happiness, and his lovely little Cornwall was just the place for that.

Lugging his rucksack on his back, he walked into St Mawes, not knowing what to expect when he knocked on the door of his house. Maybe shouts of his name or crying or laughing and hugging. He walked through the streets filled with desolate but running shops, and many grey houses. They were tilted and uneven, like buildings from a fairy tale.

He walked further into the village, people eyeing him strangely as they passed him. Then he found it. Right in front of him was his childhood home, still standing as it had been 27 years ago.

Shuffling nervously up to the wooden door, he gave it a slow tap, creating a deep, hollow sound. There was a sudden scrambling inside, and then the lock clicked. The door creaked open, and the face of a middle-aged woman, wet with tears, met him. It was his mother, and as he looked over her shoulder, he spotted his father, sister and brother.

Hastily, his mother wiped her tears away. “Oh, hello,” she sniffled, “Um, who are you?”

He was puzzled. Why wouldn’t his own mother remember him? “It’s me, Mum. Your son!”

“Son?” she repeated, “My dear boy, you must be mistaken!”

“Who is it?” his father coughed.

“It’s a young man. He’s come back from the war. He says he’s our son!”

“Son? Poor thing, you can’t be! It’s all that war business getting to your head! Old Matthew, he…he, um, he died.”

Surely this was a dream, or some kind of practical joke! How would his own family forget him, and, what’s more, say that he was deceased? He simply couldn’t believe it.

“But…” he whispered, “But I’m Matthew!”

“Matthew was killed at the start of the war by a bomb in London.” his mother said firmly but not unkindly. “Do come in though, dear. You must be worn out!”

Silently, he stepped through the doorway, shutting the door behind him. “Thank you.” he murmured.

“This is Sarah and John.” his mother said, gesturing to his sullen-faced brother and sister. He did not respond.

Later on, they all sat down at the table in the kitchen, which was very familiar to Matthew. They had a dinner of corned beef and morsels of bread, and then they all retired to their bedrooms.

He had some trouble dozing off, and it seemed like a few seconds when he woke up again, realising that something was shaking his side. He widened his eyes and turned his head, only to find his ginger cat, Oliver. It was early dawn, and it would need feeding. He got up and walked into the kitchen, the floor making the occasional creak. Then he remembered. Oliver had died before the war.

He dropped the bowl he was holding onto the floor. It made a loud crash, sure to wake someone up. He turned around. The cat was not there. Frantically, he ran up the hallway to the other bedrooms, not finding anyone. He ran outside, meeting with cold, icy air biting into his cheeks. The village looked deserted. Then he saw something coming up the street. Oliver. He was dazed, confused, not understanding what was happening. He turned back to return to the house, only to be pushed to the floor by another man. It was his father, and he was armed with a gun.

“Heil Hitler.” he whispered. The family followed: “Heil Hitler!”

Then the father pulled the trigger, and then it was the end. If only he hadn’t felt the urge to come back home. If only he was ordered to stay in London. But he still arrived. He came back to Cornwall.

Who Else But Mum!?

golden birthday 2017

Who Else But Mum!?

(A poem written by The Pawsome Lion)

~Dedicated to Mrs Mom

I still remember how you smiled at me,

And that twinkle in your eyes,

Our laughs when we had fun,

The tears of joy we shared

I still remember how you helped me up

When I fell to the floor,

Your hugs when I felt down,

Your praise when I had done well

I still remember after all these years

How kind you’ve been to me,

How great you’ve been to my brother,

How great you’ve been to my sister

And I still come to you for hugs,

For smiles, for advice, for a laugh,

Because I think,

Who else but mum,

To go to for joy!?

Who else but mum,

To go to for help!?

Who else? Who else? Who else but mum!?

And on this very special day,

I’d like to say…

Happy Birthday!

To the best mother in the world!