A kid's first memo

As far as I’ve ever known, my first limpid memo of my life is hurting my own toe. A three years old kid never knows what a pestle can do and bring to him – neither benign nor a deleterious effect. Too enthusiastic to know what might happen if the black, rough and boulder object aside the sink is touched, the greenhorn tried his best to reach it by his own. Not to his favor, it toppled down, straight onto his small, lovely toe, leaving him in a loud scream of agony. For the first time in his life he screamed an ultimate excruciation. At that very instantaneous spot, toddled his pregnant Mum to the three- feet sink, picked him up her fine shoulders and cradled the poor kid. In his mind, still vivid, is the figure of the buaian – rocking up and down, with the ultimate pleasure and harmony a small baby can flavor. Awaken out of nowhere, the very first sense he felt was a rough, yet gentle hand of her sympathetic Grandma, Wan Zainab.