I remember the first time my dad bought me a Mcdonald’s Happy Meal. My god-cousin was over for dinner. She was a few years younger than me and was spoiled. Out of her mothers reach she was even more demanding. That day her mother gave my parents a fried fish head, which was used in a soup and served in our dinner noodles. My god-cousin didn’t like that idea for dinner and she refused to eat it. My parents didn’t know how to manage that angry child and asked what she wanted. She said she wanted Mcdonalds. I remember as this was all happening I was starting to cry. I buried my face in my bowl of noodles and slurped away. I remember tears rolling down and falling into my noodles, some tears landed on my lips and I could taste the saltness alongside my noodles. I don’t know why I cried, but I couldn’t stop. My dad asked if I wanted Mcdonalds and I said no. I continued to eat my noodles as my dad drove to Mcdonalds that night. Sometime later I was sitting in the living room with my god-cousin watching TV. My eyes were still swollen from crying. My dad had come back with two Happy Meals. I ate mine quietly. I don’t remember the taste or the toy. I just remember the bright TV and the grey carpet.