Soft toys. Inner child activated.

When I was at my daughter’s current age, I don’t remember a life where we would go to the mall and just stroll. In fact, going out to the mall is considered a rare luxury experience. We spend most of our time at home. Even on weekends or school holidays. My dad was busy with his work, and the only time we got to see him was during dinner. It was my mum who played the traditional role as the housewife, who shuttled us to school and extra classes. Even then, if Dad came back from his outstation trip, he would bring back gifts like dolls and plushies. We really loved that. I don’t really remember what he brought back home to Mom.

Back then, I lived in a city called Bangsar. If I were still staying there, I would probably call myself a Bangsar babe. I loved my school. I participated in several competitions as well. Perhaps my peak moment was when I entered a National Storytelling Competition in 1992, got second place and got featured in the Kuntum magazine. I only learned about it when a girl in my class, who was a bit well-off and could afford the magazine, showed it to me. I did not dare ask my parents for money to buy the magazine as well, but seeing my name in there was a profound experience. My story was about an owl that missed the moon. I had this beautiful costume with colourful cloth as feathers. First place was won by this boy who told the story of the shepherd who cried wolf.

Nowadays, for our family, window-shopping at the mall is just as normal as going to school. We can just go there after work or during the weekends. Thankfully, my daughter understands the term window-shopping. Save money. Heh.