Snail

I was told stage version of any book won't be as attractive as the original book. That's the rule, everyone says so.

It would be natural for me to read Gillian Flynn's Gone Girl, without bothering to watch the film version.

True wit, however, exists onstage, and Toby Mitchell's drama version of the picture book The Snail and the Whale changes the way I look at adaptations. For those of you who haven't read the book version, that's a tall tale of a tiny snail. And a great big, grey-blue humpback whale. That isn't just a snail, and it is a snail with the itchy foot to sail, to hitch a lift, to see the shooting stars and enormous waves. The story book chronicles the voyage of this tiny snail sitting on the tail of the humpback whale. All the way from the coral caves to the golden sand.

I've been reading this picture book with my daughter for a while. We watched the drama version last week.

But it's hard to transform this story into a drama. A dizzyingly complicated challenge to depict two creatures with extreme ranges in body size. Remember, a tiny snail and a great big humpback whale. Imagine your difficulty in telling the story of Gulliver's Travels in drama format, for that matter.

How should the drama get around? Obviously I'm not supposed to give away too much of the plot. I would only go so far as to let you know the production team borrowed the theme of Storybook Soldiers. That's an organisation which helps British military personnel record bedtime stories for their children to listen to while daddies are away.

So instead of casting as the tiny snail and the great big whale, the two characters become a girl who stays home and her dad in the navy.

What could be easier for a drama actor to be a little girl with itchy foot than to be a tiny snail longing to go around the world? Then the bedtime story (of the tiny snail and the great big whale) recorded by the navy daddy enters the picture.

The transition - from an adventurous snail to the curious little girl and from the brave whale to the strong dad who serves on a military ship abroad - deftly connects two stories. My worries are over. The original picture book and the adapted drama mingle like Velcro. And I understand what is meant by the dad when he says in the drama, "A good story can take you all round the world, without even leaving your room."

Graffiti

Ask parents how their children act (or react) in different situations, and chances are good that mums and dads make wrong guess half of the time. Just don't pretend you know more about your kids than you do, because you don't.

During the festive lunch last Sunday, I entertained my friend's daughter by making a few drawings. It turned out that I had chosen an unfinished page of my daughter's sketch book. By the time I realised my mistake, I had nearly used up the whole page. My daughter cried. It's a matter of unauthorised graffiti, I know, but also perhaps a wee bit of jealousy.

So I vowed never to "invade" my daughter's drawing without asking. But some vows are made to be broken, right?

I went to a wedding party with my daughter this Sunday. With an eye for subject to draw and a deft style, Jasmine quickly pulled up chair and settled down with her own picture of wedding cake. After a moment I noticed my friend's two-year-old girl and thought that it would be a good idea to invite her to share my daughter's colour pencils. And she did. My daughter actually gave her a new paper to scribble all over.

Wow. Good girl.

I let the two girls sit side by side. Everything seemed fine.

But this was not exactly what happened. Or at any rate, this wasn't what I was told on my way home. "Dad, I want to tell you something good,"my daughter said. "Olivia scribbled on my paper, just next to my wedding cake."

A long exhale. (Unauthorised graffiti again - oh my!) "How did you feel?"

"It's okay," my daughter answered. "I mean, Olivia used the black colour pencil, and I took that as the shadow of my wedding cake. I added some more black colour. It works."

Amazing.

Resolution

I worked overnight in hospital this New Year's Eve, and didn't have time to make any resolution.

That's supposed to be the ideal time of setting goals. After 365 days, it's time to take stock of any gain (in terms of waist circumference) and loss (think the time with Facebook). Let me be honest. I am not used to make new year's resolution. I don't think there is science with this tradition.

Except now I do: I read about new research telling us to make plan and avoid keeping a backup plan (translation: lame excuse), to chop up a massive goal into parts (translation: to let yourself feel good with each small step).

Near the end of last year, I purchased an app that allows me to create to-do-lists in my smartphone. The reason? A key factor is its design for users to put a tick next to a completed item, followed by hitting a gratifying button "to delete all completed tasks."

The same way infants celebrate potty training by the sound of toilet flush, ticking off an item from my to-do tasks makes me feel good.

Yes. And it's called instant gratification.