All I wanted when I was a child were lots and lots of toys. I want my own room screaming of them. But my parents only gave me what they think I needed, and a very few of what I wanted. And of course, I didn’t get to have my own room screaming of toys. It would have satisfied most of my childhood fantasies, one room filled with all those preschool furniture and stuff that I can play and explore with. Though on the second thought, I kind of got what I sort of wanted. Not exactly a room with four walls, but one that is much wider and more adventurous. I can draw wherever and whatever I want without being punished for drawing on walls. I can run around and scream all I want. And I get to have my own set of toys through innovation. Like my own toy gun through pieces of wood, some nails, wires for trigger and rubber band for bullets. Spare cartons and cardboards put together to serve as playhouses. Wonder the dark with my improvised flashlight — an empty can of milk big enough to hold a candle inside, with wire as handle ( oh, and we get to put holes on the close end for various designs that is reflected when you lit the candle ). So now, I don’t really think I needed that one room, for it turned out that what my parents gave me was way better than what I wanted.