Memories are made of this ... and this .... and this ....

What are little boys made of?
What are little boys made of?
Frogs and snails
And puppy-dogs' tails ...

Cannot quite remember anything to do with frogs and snails (thank goodness) but puppy-dogs??? Yes.

Standing outside a now-closed Metro department store a hop skip and jump away from Orchard Road, opposite Far East Plaza In Singapore.

Mum, Violet (one of my BFFs) and I were out to lunch and a spot of shopping. As we entered the store, I noticed that Allan, then about three or so, had wandered off.

A mite frantic, we went in different directions to find him. We did, just seconds later.... hugging the ceramic RSPCA donation-collection dog at the store's entrance. And he wanted to take the doggie home.

Allan displayed his dogged determination and sense of pride even at that young age. Just before leaving our then home in Bangkok, I took him aside and told him that when we got to Singapore to see his Khun Yai (maternal grandma in Thai), and all his other relatives, he would have to speak English because they could not speak Thai.

Yes, yes, said my little boy, I will.

Not two hours after arriving at my parents' home, he came strutting out of the bedroom, backpack and all, and marched out of the flat.

I found him hands behind his back, with his back to the wall in the corridor and tears rolling down his cheeks.

What's the matter?

"No one wants to talk to me."

Well, I told you in Bangkok that you have to speak English because they cannot speak Thai.

He turned to me with a disdainful look and stated: "I am Thai. I do NOT speak English."

I scooped him up, gave him one of his favourite cuddles and took him inside.

The moment passed but that memory is stored for time immemorial in that part of my brain reserved solely for my children.

The stories are countless, the memories priceless.