Children’s Day in Singapore has always held a special place in my heart. It’s a day dedicated to celebrating the joy, innocence, and limitless potential of every child. Observed on the first Friday of October, this special day fills nurseries, kindergartens, and primary schools with laughter, games, performances, and the vibrant energy of children who are simply thrilled to be alive. It’s not just about the treats or the playtime — it’s a celebration of what it means to nurture, to grow, and to believe in the beautiful promise of childhood.
Traditionally, Children’s Day is celebrated by schools for little ones between the ages of two and twelve — the kind of age when excitement over balloons and magic shows still fills the air, when sticky hands clutch small gifts from teachers, and when faces light up over cupcakes and confetti. It’s usually a day when parents share pictures of smiling children dressed in costumes or holding their favorite toys. But as I sat back and looked at my own children — now much older, with their own schedules and responsibilities — I realized that while they may have outgrown the classroom celebrations, they will never outgrow being my children.
No matter how old they get, they will always be my babies. That’s a truth every parent knows deep down — one that doesn’t fade with time.
This year, my son was on the last week of his school vacation when Children’s Day came around, and I thought to myself, why not do something special with him? Even though he’s no longer a little boy, there’s something incredibly precious about carving out moments for just the two of us. Life has a way of rushing by, and before you know it, your children have grown up and are busy finding their own paths. So I decided I would make the effort — even if I wasn’t feeling my best.
And believe me, I wasn’t. I was sicker than a dog that week — body aching, throat burning, energy completely drained. But when my son brought up the idea of going to Universal Studios, his eyes lighting up with that same spark he had as a kid, I couldn’t bring myself to say no. The last time we went, he was just a tiny little snot, running around with his hair sticking up in all directions, clutching onto my hand every time a roller coaster roared by. It had been years since then, and I knew he had been longing to go back.
The thought of navigating an amusement park while feeling like I was about to collapse was definitely not appealing, but the thought of disappointing him was worse. So I did what mothers do best — I braved up.
We packed our things and headed out early that morning. My daughter, sadly, couldn’t join us as she had to work. A part of me wished we could all be together, but I also knew this day — just the two of us — would become its own special memory.
Now, taking my son to an outdoor venue in Singapore’s humid weather isn’t exactly a walk in the park. He suffers from severe eczema, and the heat can make it unbearable for him. So even though he’s already eighteen, this mummy still had to pack a full bag of essentials — a towel, his creams, moisturizer, Band-Aids, and all the little things needed to keep him comfortable throughout the day. Some people might think that once your kids are grown, you stop doing those things, but the truth is, motherhood doesn’t come with an expiry date. You never stop being their protector, their comfort, their constant.
It’s heartbreaking at times to know that your child can’t do everything as easily as others. Watching him struggle through flare-ups or discomfort never gets easier. There’s a quiet ache that comes with parenting a child who has to be extra cautious about things others take for granted — running under the sun, swimming freely, or even just sweating it out during a long day outside. But over the years, we’ve learned to adapt. We do things differently, yes, but we still do them.
That day, as we walked through the park gates, I could see his excitement bubbling over. His face lit up like a kid again, and that alone made every ounce of effort worth it. He was having the time of his life — laughing, exploring, hopping from one attraction to another, trying out rides that once terrified him as a child. Watching him enjoy himself, I felt a deep sense of peace. The kind of quiet joy that fills your heart when you realize your child is happy — genuinely, purely happy.
We took photos, shared silly jokes, and stopped for snacks between rides. Every so often, I’d check in on him — “You okay? Need more cream? Want to rest?” — and he’d just roll his eyes and say, “Mum, I’m fine.” But I could see the gratitude in his smile. We both knew that this wasn’t just another outing; it was something more. It was a reminder that no matter how much time passes, no matter how old he gets, he’ll always have his mum right there, cheering him on and watching over him.
As the day wore on, the exhaustion started to hit me. My body was screaming for rest, but my heart was full. We took a break near one of the shaded areas, sharing a drink and just chatting about everything and nothing — school, friends, random memories. It was a kind of connection that’s hard to describe — not loud or dramatic, just quietly comforting. It felt like time slowed down for a little while, and it was just the two of us, mother and son, in our own little world.
Of course, a part of me still missed having my daughter with us. She’s older, busy with work, and stepping into her own life — and though I’m proud beyond words, I still miss the days when the three of us were always together. I didn’t want to go home without getting her something special. So before we left, we stopped by the gift store at the Aquarium.
She had once joked that if we ever went there without her, we’d better bring her back a real stingray. Obviously, that wasn’t happening — but I did the next best thing. I found a soft, adorable stingray plushie and instantly knew it was perfect. It felt like a small, silly, but sweet way to include her in our little adventure.
By the time we got home, I was beyond exhausted. My body felt like it had run a marathon through fire — the kind of bone-deep tiredness that makes every joint ache. But as I sat down and looked at the photos from the day — my son’s smile, the way his eyes crinkled with laughter, the stingray plushie tucked under my arm — I knew, without a doubt, it had been worth it.
Was I sick? Absolutely. Was I completely drained? Without question. But was it worth it? Hell, yeah.
Because that’s what parenthood is all about — showing up, even when it’s hard. Loving through the fatigue, the worry, the chaos, and the challenges. It’s about choosing moments of joy, even when you’re running on empty, because those moments become memories your children will carry with them long after they’ve grown.
Children’s Day may officially be for the young ones in nurseries and primary schools, but for me, it’s also a reminder that our role as parents never really ends. The celebrations might change — no more goodie bags, no more school concerts — but the heart of it remains. It’s still about celebrating your children, however old they may be. It’s about cherishing the bond that continues to evolve and grow stronger over time.
That day at Universal Studios wasn’t just a celebration of Children’s Day — it was a celebration of motherhood, of resilience, of love that refuses to take a day off. It was a reminder that while my children may outgrow my lap, they will never outgrow my heart.
As I tucked the stingray plushie into a gift bag for my daughter later that night, I thought about how quickly the years had flown by. From the days of Children’s Day crafts and playground laughter to now — where my son’s packing for college and my daughter’s off to work — it feels surreal. But even as life moves forward, the love remains steady, unwavering.
Maybe that’s the real meaning of Children’s Day — not just celebrating childhood, but celebrating the timeless connection between parent and child. The laughter, the struggles, the late-night talks, the small adventures — they all weave together into something beautiful.
So, yes, I was sick. Yes, I was exhausted. But if I had to do it all over again, I would — in a heartbeat. Because that’s what it means to be a mother. You give, you love, you endure — and in return, you get moments like this. Moments that remind you that no matter how old they get, they’ll always be your babies. Always.
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