“Where are we going, Tok Wan?” asked our little Insyirah.
“You want to take a ride?” asked her grandpa, my other half that is.
The little girl's eyes lit up as she smiled and nodded her head.
We were babysitting again that weekend. My daughter and son-in-law had to study as their ACCA exams were just round the corner. So we decided to take the little girl out for some amusement.
At the play centre, Berjaya Times Square, we watched the roller coaster as it rumbled past above our heads.
“What is that noise?” said little Insyirah, her arms grabbing her grandpa’s neck and then laid her head upon his shoulder. The roller coaster turned raound a pillar and exited through another hanging track.
“That was a roller coaster. Do you want to take a ride on the bumble bee?” I asked, pointing my thumb to a certain section of the play centre.
The 3 year old little girl looked at me and said nothing. There was a frown on her forehead.
Just then, her grandpa said, “This place is a little bit too noisy for me.”
“I don’t like it too, Tok Wan!” she said, her words pouring fast out of her tiny lips..
“Would you like some ice cream instead?” I asked.
The little girl smiled a broad smile and so the three of us walked hand in hand. We sat on one of the steps in a secluded corner, leant against the wall, licking our ice creams. And we laughed a lot. All three of us.
Children. Very innocent. Very pure. Sometimes entertaining them doesn’t need one to bore a hole in one’s pockets.
Tears well up my eyes whenever I think of the more than 30% of Palestinians who perished were children, killed and maimed in the heartless Israeli attacks. No ice creams, no laughters. Just masks of death staring straight into their faces….
“You want to take a ride?” asked her grandpa, my other half that is.
The little girl's eyes lit up as she smiled and nodded her head.
We were babysitting again that weekend. My daughter and son-in-law had to study as their ACCA exams were just round the corner. So we decided to take the little girl out for some amusement.
At the play centre, Berjaya Times Square, we watched the roller coaster as it rumbled past above our heads.
“What is that noise?” said little Insyirah, her arms grabbing her grandpa’s neck and then laid her head upon his shoulder. The roller coaster turned raound a pillar and exited through another hanging track.
“That was a roller coaster. Do you want to take a ride on the bumble bee?” I asked, pointing my thumb to a certain section of the play centre.
The 3 year old little girl looked at me and said nothing. There was a frown on her forehead.
Just then, her grandpa said, “This place is a little bit too noisy for me.”
“I don’t like it too, Tok Wan!” she said, her words pouring fast out of her tiny lips..
“Would you like some ice cream instead?” I asked.
The little girl smiled a broad smile and so the three of us walked hand in hand. We sat on one of the steps in a secluded corner, leant against the wall, licking our ice creams. And we laughed a lot. All three of us.
Children. Very innocent. Very pure. Sometimes entertaining them doesn’t need one to bore a hole in one’s pockets.
Tears well up my eyes whenever I think of the more than 30% of Palestinians who perished were children, killed and maimed in the heartless Israeli attacks. No ice creams, no laughters. Just masks of death staring straight into their faces….
3 comments:
how true... innocent souls they are and yet, as the future generatiion, they are the ones who become victims.
May Allah provide us with strength, knowledge and rezq to battle this together.
Dear D,
Thank you for your comments...
Take good care of yourself and the children!
Dear D,
Thank you for your comments...
Take good care of yourself and the children!
Post a Comment