Childhood nightmares, I bet you have them too.

Just to share a couple of mine here...

I used to hate the visits to the dental clinics simply because those dentists are just so intimidating and ungentle with their patients. Whenever one student comes knocking at the door with a brown piece of paper on his/her hand. I'll pray hard that my name won't be called. Of course, visits to the dental is just a matter of time and I had my turn too. What I did was to take my own sweet time to walk there or if not, take a detour to get to the old, stinky clinic which very much looked like a "lion's den"whereas I was the "sheep" back then.

Trips back home were by school buses. I can't describe how terrorised I was by whom we normally call-the bus auntie. She would screamed at the top of her voice whenever I get up to alight the bus. Everyday I just get so confused by when I should stand up to alight. And the thought of her looks and screams just give me the chill down my spine so much that I reckoned it would be better for me to be guai and stick my butt on the seat till she calls for me. Till now, I can still remember her looks vivdly..her bushy permed hair, her wrinkled face and her trimmed eyebrows... Ok la, she meant well too. She will have to be responsible if anything were to happen to me then.

And so, that links me to the next nightmare. *ahem*

I once fell, er..I meant roll down the school bus.

It goes like this. You know, those days, you don't exactly get school bus that is air-conditioned, neither do you get coaches. Fat HopE! Unless you lived far away from the school and your parents paid more for the bus fees-so you get another bus that has air-con and travel further. Ya..so as I was saying, the old bus was my form of transportation home. In the bus, the "ground" is made of metal platforms, including the stairs too. It was a rainy day, so you can imagine how it was like when students board the bus with their shoes WET!

I was almost reaching, and I saw my Dad walking to fetch me from the bus. So, as a primary school kid, I was just estactic.

Following next to another kid who was alighting, I waited for my turn. My first step....and I didn't get to have to land on the second step on the stairs..... 'cos I rolled down.

The next moment, I was on the ground, crying. Amidst the tears, I saw Dad's head popped into my vision, and he carried me home.

No fractures.

But plenty of orh-ceh and balukus. Yep, blue-blacks,bumps and cuts you call it. They were all over my body. I could still remember that my head felt like a sand-papered durian with all the round bumps. I forgot when I stopped crying. It just rained in my house, I believe. *haha!*

Come to think of it, it's really scary to roll down those slippery metallic stairs and I wondered how I survived that incident. Sometimes, this sort of incidents do make your childhood really unique, don't they?

But, no more rolling down of buses please.

Shayna sang @ 12:09 PM

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