Javanese People, their Children and Celebrations

My experience although quite brief at this point is of people who are genuinely helpful, polite, diverse and full of life. Yeah, there's the occasional man sitting on the curb at dusk with his behind completely exposed (I've seen way worse in NYC). Sure there are the odd strange looks, but mostly lots of smiling and laughing when trying to communicate. They easily show off any English they know and are glad to hear you try some Indonesian, affording bright smiles and responses with every "terima kasih" (thank you) or "selamat pagi" (good morning) you throw their way.
Oh, and the children, so excited to speak English and welcome foreigners with a "Hello, Mister" even when you are a Miss. I wonder if they think all white people speak English? Probably not. They learn English I am told in school although supposedly quite poorly, leaving young people like Furquon to nourish their thirst for speaking English with American movies, music and TV trying to make sentences from random words learned in school. The Javanese love their children. The nature of a child always the same regardless of religion, race or culture. Some timid, some outgoing, always entertaining themselves somehow, some staring at you and others boldly saying hello or asking your name. They ride their bikes to school in their uniforms. They sit next to me at the internet cafe, three around a computer surfing the web. They have mobile phones and text message each other.
Javanese baby grounding tradition. I'm not sure if this is what its called, but essentially it is a ritual where an infant's feet are placed on the ground. I read in a book about the Balinese tradition and I am sure that they are related, but being that in Java it is intertwined with the Muslim religion and in Bali it is not, surely they are different. The tradition is a Javanese or Indonesian tradition in the ceremony I attended the baby's feet were not actually placed on the ground, but a symbolic grounding of the child. Blessings were given. The child's hair cut by the grandmother and parents, his hair placed on a napkin in a plate. A grand ceremony much more elaborate than any baptism, perhaps regarded more importantly in their culture. A lavish feast, a catered event. People dressed in traditional clothing, the parents and new baby wearing the same pattern fabric, mom's hair woven in a high up do with golden ornaments. Chairs arranged in rows, a dj, a band, singers, a drag queen (more about that later), video cameras recording the event, all to celebrate this new life coming into the world.
A new friend, Xenholya, a nine year old girl who at this party became quite interested in me. Asking me all sorts of questions. Wanting to be near me, but too shy to sit next to me, yet very animated, outgoing, a little firecracker, full of inquiries, facial expressions, whispers and attitude. After I bit into a fresh chili and my mouth proceeded to catch fire, she asks "Is that very hot?" and then jokes that she is going to go around and save all the chilies for me. A few minutes later, she comes over with some water. She asked me lots of questions like if I visit England a lot and if I like cats, dogs, turtles and lions. She wanted to know if I was married and if I would be coming back to Indonesia. I told her I would invite her to my wedding when I get married and she replies, "well if it is in Indonesia then I will probably come, but if its in the US then you will have to buy us all the tickets to come. And anyway, how will you invite me?" I take out my notebook and she writes her address in it. Noting that she cannot remember the number of the house, but we can get it later from her sister who is friends of Furquon.