Childhood is such a beautiful gift. Untouched by weight of the world. Fondest memories of childhood are of catastrophic times. Times parents would typically associate with utter chaos, though beautifully etched in the minds of siblings and me. We look back now as funny stories filled with nonsensical laughter. Never played with dolls, didn’t like being ‘dolled up’! A simple, shy, sensitive kid.
Toddler brother and I just hated milk, still do. Each evening, obsessed with quietly emptying entire cartons of fresh milk on kitchen floor. Litres of white covering entire room, almost a daily occurrence. Partners in crime! Wondered why our pet cows produced such high volumes of milk, twisted nature? No matter how high helpers hid the milk, which lock they used for fridge or kitchen doors, it was futile. We would secretly weasel our way in at unsuspecting moments. Mischievous, playful troublemakers! 

Innocently splashed paint on walls in our rooms. Careless strokes with brushes, colourful chalks, pencils. Abstract art stains still linger in mind. Sometimes, make secret holes in walls to be able to talk to each other from different rooms. Random, uninhibited jumps into mud pools, dirty ponds. Delightfully dancing in rains, occasionally as a pair winning competitions! Couldn’t understand why adults resisted crazy, curious, creative ideas?  
Genuinely thought bags of fruits, chocolates, candies, nuts in supermarkets were ‘free-for-all’. Loved going food shopping for this reason, until caught munching away. Guess, truly understand value of a moment when it becomes a memory! It was fascinating when I believed in everything.

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