Like were you happen for the German people, concerned about economic effects or just treated it as just random news?
I will start:
My sister’s friend was friends with the River Valley High School murderer. According to her, the day before the murder, he was actually pretty ok and didn’t look like someone who will kill.
Don’t get me wrong, people are entitled to their opinions on abortion, and for me, I believed that the woman has the right to do whatever she feels is best for her body. I am not a woman, so I will never experience what it is like to be pregnant.
But why are there people who are against abortion towards mentally and physically handicapped babies, even though they when given the chance to choose, they will pick the more ‘normal’ child?
Think about it, if you could adopt only one child/baby, who will you pick?
A beautiful/handsome child that has a high IQ and personality that could potentially enter Harvard University?
Or a child that has a disease like Down Syndrome that would be extremely difficult for them to live a normal life?
Not to mention Singapore society is far from being socially acceptable of deformed children. Our government may support them, but will ordinary Singaporeans accept them?
Every parent wants a child that has a high IQ, but nobody is going to hope their child has something like Down Syndrome.
In a place like Singapore, where there’s a strong focus on academic success and independence, children with disabilities can still face stigma, bullying, or social isolation.
The Singapore Kindness Movement may encourage kindness and inclusion, or display beautiful paintings by such deformed children but how many Singaporeans out there are really going to put it into practice?
A child is a lifelong commitment, and arguably a ‘normal’ child is more stress-free than someone who is deformed.
I’m genuinely asking to understand different viewpoints, not to attack anyone.
“Mummy I’m thirsty,” the six-year-old boy pestered again “Can you get me a glass of water?”
Half-awake, the single mother refused, replying “Didn’t I give you a bottle of water to drink from? I already told you no. Go back to bed.”
Her son often came into her room to sleep with her, ask her to check for monsters under the bed and all sorts of childish nonsense. But this is the first time he had asked for water. Usually she always leave a big bottle of water for him in his room.
“Please mum,” the boy pleaded “ I ran out and I‘m really, really thirsty. If you need me to bring you water next time, would you really like it if I said no? What if I die of thirst? What if I…”
Begrudgingly, the mother let out an annoyed sigh and got out of bed telling her son to ‘hush’. It was dark, but she knew where the kitchen was. Her son followed behind her to the kitchen, urging her “Can you please be quicker mum?”
Once they had entered the kitchen, the mom opened the fridge to fetch the bottle of cold water she had placed in the night before. As the light from the fridge poured into the kitchen, she was confused when her son pulled at her arm and handed her his iPhone.
Her confusion turned to horror when the boy whispered ”Call the police. I saw Daddy outside trying to break into your room.”
When I took my six-year-old son Caleb elk hunting in Meeker, Colorado during Thanksgiving, we stayed in a small historic cabin. That Thursday night changed our lives.
Forever.
When I left the shower, I heard Caleb whispering in the dark.
Alarmed, I flipped on the lights. A hairy leg and elk antlers slipped into the closet.
I pulled the doors open.
Empty.
When I asked Caleb, he answered. “Wesley. He’s my age.”
He said Wesley was turned into a Wendigo in 1916 by a ‘Master’ who lived in another dimension inside the closet forced to abduct children across Colorado to feed him.
He stopped because Caleb looked like his brother.
Caleb pleaded, “Please help him, Daddy.”
The next night, the Wendigo reappeared, covered with bruises and gashes. It nodded when we explained our plan.
We entered a cold foul-smelling wasteland of rocks and leafless trees. Human bones and elk skulls littered the landscape.
When Caleb was brought near a cave, the Wendigo let out a growl.
The sound of multiple soft slow footsteps filled the air.
Slowly, the Master, a white-furred elk-headed Squidward-like entity appeared.
With multiple shots from my rifle, the Master collapsed.
Dead.
Instantly, the world crumbled into a black void. Quickly, the Wendigo carried us and escaped through the closet.
When the closet collapsed into planks, the Wendigo’s antlers and skin fell off, dissolving into dust.
In its place, stood a shocked six-year-old.
One year later, dropping my sons off at school, I told Caleb: “Take care of your brother.”
“ Don’t worry Dad, Caleb always does.” was Wesley’s reply, as Caleb wrapped his arm around Wesley’s shoulders.