It was fun in its most engaging, most raw forms - no sophisticated toys nor hand phone app games.
Stanley my sex bunny friend often agrees that fun in its most engaging - and especially raw forms - would be exceptional even if there are no sophisticated toys involved.
But today's topic is honestly wholesome.
Nothing of the Stanley's type of sexual nonsense.
The kids - ranging from five (I think) to as old as 13 (I think), were running around with sticks and tree branches, pretending they're machine guns.
It's a refreshing sight, to see such unadulterated play among kids.
I cannot ever recall seeing any kid in Singapore (my godson included), playing without expensive, sophisticated toys or without the aid of mobile apps.
Singapore is a society that breeds successful children who would be engaged in either designer play or intellectual games. There's no room for letting children's imaginations run wild and have them pretend to be astronauts using make shift spaceships made out of card boxes.
No. Not when we are so wealthy and can shower our kids with these toys.
Perhaps, kids today won't know what they're missing if they haven't grown up in the 80s like my siblings and me.
Of course, we did grow up with Nintendoes and the Brick Game, and later on the Play Station.
But when we were much younger, we had very little toys.
While our mum believed in showering us with toys, granny strongly objected to it, saying it's a waste of money.
So when we were toy-deprived, my siblings and I would make up games to play - which proved to be some of our happiest childhood memories.
Thanks to granny's addiction to TVB drama serials, much of our childhood games were inspired by the period dramas that involved sword-wielding heroes who could fly from tree to tree with ease.
I remember fashioning a sword out of a long ruler - pasting one end of the stationery with paper (which would be my sword handle) and making a sheath out of newspapers for my Heavenly Sabre.
My elder sister's choice of weapon was a deadly Chinese fan which she claims can slice a person's throat and kill him in under two minutes.
My sister was that dark and detailed.
Younger brother Barry chose a whip as his offensive weapon, made out of rubber bands plaided together with the help of our mum.
Our play time would often be before dinner, when our mum allowed us to run around the front and backyard of our house, working up an appetite for dinner.
Our pugilistic games would often revolve around one of us battling for the title of the Formidable One.
Very often, it would be a team effort - usually my whip wielding brother and I would combine forces to attack our fan slicing sister.
My sister would, however, be the one calling the shots, deciding if a particular blow my brother or I gave her was lethal or strong enough to injure her, which, as you can guess, was never the case. She was always somehow immune to our attacks.
She on the other hand, decided that her fan moves could injure me or my brother and she always ended up being the Formidable One.
My brother and I would be left with no choice but to heal each other with our inner strength, which often involves one of us pushing his palms against the injured party's back, causing him to fake-vomit blood to recover from sis' fan slices.
And then there were peaceful, non-battling days.
I would play dress up with my sis, helping ourselves to mum's collection of jewellery especially her many clip-on earrings.
Sis would always take pride in decking me up, pleased to have transformed me into the little sister she never had.
Meanwhile, Barry, who would run away the moment sis tries to dress him up, would end up playing the role of the male servant to his two princesses.
Those were such happy memories that I messaged my siblings in our group chat, asking if they remembered those precious days.
Of course, sis remembers but denies ever using her authority to bully us into making herself the Formidable Fighter.
Barry has no recollection of having two older sisters but recalls being healed by me after sis's fan attack.
That day, I spent the entire day reliving my happy childhood games, wishing we never had to grow up.
Stanley my sex bunny friend does not have such happy child-play memories with his sister Cindy Ong whom Stanley hates with a passion.
"She never shares her barbie dolls with me," Stanley said to me. "So one day, when she was in school, I took one of her dolls and cut her hair, thinking it's okay because hair would grow after all."
Stanley was in Sec One when he did that.
"Why are you asking?" Stanley said, unable to believe that I'm running out of more exciting topics to write about that I had to resort to writing childhood games.
"If you lack inspiration, all you have to do is ask," Stanley said.
"I have a hell lot of childhood game stories I can tell you about, which would leave your readers lusting for more," Stanley the Slut offered.
"And trust me, like you, I fashion toys but instead of using them to attack, I use them for pure enjoyment."
God bless Stanley and his scarred childhood.
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Adam's stories are based on real life events and inspired by real people
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