Many of the people who buy my book are people I know, and some of the people I know come from where I work. Parents and children who support me go all out to buy my book and ask their kids to muster up the courage and get me to sign them. Apart from that, there are parents at signings who smile and gesture at their children to approach me, since they are also keen on reading the book, or keen on teaching them Chinese culture. I see what you parents of mixed-race kids did there.
Lots of children inch towards me slowly, as though I am a monster and their parents are sending them to their doom. I guess all adults, regardless of whether they are kids at heart, look intimidating to children. No sense in telling them that I sometimes eat breakfast foods for dinner and that I still watch cartoons.
Anyway, the child walks up to me as slowly as s/he can, holding the book in her/his hand.
“Hello darling, do you want me to sign it?” I ask. Since I have started working in education, I call all children darlings reflexively, whether I like it or not. (At this time of writing, children have since gravitated towards me to ask questions, regardless of whether I am proclaiming my status as an author in public–I was at the ArtScience Museum, and “darling-ed” a little blondie who asked me if she could keep the picture she was colouring. There was also the time I went to eat Korean barbecue and a little boy asked me if the labels of the meat he wanted to eat corresponded to his choice.)
After the children discover that I’m not a monster (just an exhausted adult), that usually eases the tension a little bit and the child will nod her/his head. I then take the book and ask him/her to spell her/his name, and everything is fine. Sometimes, the mother does the talking for the child, and I nod and smile as much as I can. You don’t want to scare the little tykes, after all.
Some kids know me personally because I have to do stand in front of the classroom and make learning English seem easy to them. They laugh and joke in my class and ask ten million questions, but suddenly, when it comes to asking me to sign a copy of the book, they grow quiet.
“Yes, X?” I ask.
X’s head is bowed. I know he wants me to sign the book because my colleague told me earlier on.
“You want me to sign the book?”
He nods.
“Aiya, just ask, silly!” I find it strange that this child has asked me so many questions, ranging from what brand why watch is to the meanings of words to why I make his classmates sit in different places from time to time.
There was also Y, whose mother bought five copies on the book and asked me to sign it before class started.
“Y, can we deal with this later?” I asked. He nodded.
After class had mostly ended, Y used the books to play and tried to make dominoes out of them because his wonderfully supportive mother Mum bought copies. I asked him if he wanted them signed, and he nodded. Strange how the very cheeky Y was silent on the matter–it’s much easier to ask his teacher for permission to go to the washroom than to sign a book.
But as always, regardless of age and gender, I pick up a pen and smile at them nicely, especially if they asked very politely that they would like to get the book signed.
That does the trick.