Sunday, October 12, 2003
I chanced upon this today. It was a toy I had wanted years ago and a toy my mom thinks too expensive. I even quarrelled with her over it. In the end, she won. I never got my own Polly Pocket. Ditto for the dog and the bicycle.
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Don't we always remember weird fragments of our childhoods? How our childhoods were invariably shaped by our mothers' standards of how a childhood should be. Regardless of how things turn out, their views always matter, in picking the pink dress for a day out or in buying you that set of building blocks. We could have a say, but only a say within mothers' post-censored choices. And we thought we'd tasted freedom in that playground. But we never really did.
