Elsa

What did Cinderella eat?

Whether we know it or not - and apparently we do not - the Disney Princess swallowed up our daughters.

Is it true, even a little bit, that parents should do our best to rescue our daughters from the inexplicable obsession with Cinderella, Sleeping Beauty, Ariel, Belle, Snow White (and many more)? Are girls destined to go gaga over the Disney princess? I've been reading Peggy Orenstein's Cinderella Ate My Daughter to find out more. Orenstein saw no reason for the royalty of girls (and hers) to the submissive, low-achieving and pink femininity, earnestly waiting for the prince to rescue, protect and take care of them.

She had a point. Many of us have a hard time when a preschooler answers "Princess" when being asked what she wants to be when she grows up.

What about the latest Disney princess movie Frozen? I know most of you will ask by now.

Unless you haven't met any little girl over the last six months, you must have heard about this popular movie with two Oscar nominations. Girls are simply drawn into the gravitational pull of the story about Queen-to-be Elsa and her sister Anna, and never quite get back out. My four-year-old, enamored of the fictional snow kingdom and icy power, told me her favorite color is blue now (and not pink any more). I swear, my daughter has sung the hit song "Let It Go" for three hundred times.

To those of us who are somehow uneasy with the traditional plot of charming prince saving a princess, Frozen departs from the kissy-kissy formula and broadens the message to include another type of true love - the bona fide sisterly love. In many ways, the blueprint of this Disney movie is a breakthrough. The prince remains charming, and yet he turns out to be the bad guy. Exactly the opposite of the case in Beauty and the Beast.

Written on purpose or not, as this Disney movie has shown, the big step away from the romantic fantasy is the way to go. Let us go.

Kakadu

Visiting Australia's national parks is pretty different from going to the theme park Legoland in Malaysia. I did both.

As an adult city-dweller, I prefer the wilderness and natural environment. I'm not suggesting that you should delete Legoland from your itinerary. If you have kids, they will tell you to go there and stay for many many many many days and nights.

When I started off planning this summer trip, I wasn't sure if I want to fill the whole page with playgrounds. Over the course of time, as I get the knack of travel with my daughter, what seems to adult's dream can also be kids' wonderland. Now that we've come back from Litchfield National Park and Kakadu National Park, I knew I'd made the right move. Jasmine enjoyed the scenic experience among open forests, spring-fed waterfalls, rock-art galleries and wetland areas.

It's such a pleasure to hear that Jasmine rates both Legoland and Aussie national parks equally funny. Yes, she said so.

There wasn't water park, as what they have in Legoland, but the impressive Wangi Falls plunging into rock pools made an ideal swimming area safe from crocodiles.

Instead of using Lego blocks to create castle, the Aboriginal guide taught us to use paperbark tree's bark sheets to make new tools. These can be creative, like canoe-shaped containers for holding water, cradle for carrying newborns, quasi-raincoat, impromptu bowls and plates.

Compared to the hotel in Legoland, which is attractive (I must say), the campsite and picnic table at the national parks offered much more variety and surprises. We could never guess what would come up when we heard the sound of scurrying up tree trunks, scratching, squish, or food foraging. "Squirrel?" "Whoops, it's wallaby."

Seasick

Try this quick word association: fishing tour.

And you respond … barramundi? Snapper? Mackerel?

Actually, I didn't come up with these targets when we took a boat ride in Darwin. I was completely at sea. And seasick. Or both. As the boat departed from the ferry terminal, I was overcome with a wave of nausea. My heart went wonky in my chest, my brow knitted with anxiety and my stomach spinning. My tummy flopped and bloated like a puffer fish on the hook.

Still lost in thought after I threw up in the toilet, I took few photos that weren't in focus. Yet what could I do? I didn't have energy to hold the fishing rod. I could not eat. I simply could not keep on an even keel.

The irony is that I didn't have to worry about my daughter who was as excited as kids in Ferris wheel.

On the way back, my friend told my daughter the good old stories in the Outward Bound course. It was the year I graduated from medical school. The summer course took place on a yacht Ji-Fung, and in the rough sea. We didn't have to hold fishing rods at that time, but were told to put on harness and make sure we vomited on the right direction on the deck – the lee side and never windward. Obediently I followed. When it was our turn to clean the cabin toilet, it was going to be much, much harder than what you'd thought. Harder than that of Sisyphus. Obviously, enclosed area inside the cabin is the last place in the world to go when you have seasickness. Up, down and around my stomach plunged, like a bad roller coaster ride. Wait. What else could I complain? Isn't being nearest to the toilet better than running to the leeward deck? Well, if and only if you're not supposed to clean up the toilet.        

How could I have believed myself joining the course on Ji-Fung 19 years ago? Yet I had.

Medley

With so many destinations, choosing which to visit during my daughter's summer holiday can be tough. When you hear about wild explorer's opening an atlas randomly for the choice, this might not sound rational. But it should. There are many theories. The simplest explanation is probably this: it feels good. Plus, it doesn't cause any major harm.

Few months ago, I happened to see the Lonely Planet's Central Australia in the public library new collection. I checked out the travel guidebook and started to plan our trip. As I sat down and invited my friend to go, I was told that his family had already planned to visit Singapore. Translation: my plan didn't work out.

Like most – maybe all – travel plans, mine worked out by itself. "Wouldn't it be so much easier if we visit Singapore together? Then we can fly directly into Darwin Airport; there isn't direct flight from our town to Darwin." We ended up fixing a medley of itineraries, including my friend's family, and that of his brothers, dad and mum, all the way to Singapore Zoo, Legoland in Malaysia, and our two families' last stop in Darwin, Litchfield National Park, followed by World Heritage-listed Kakadu National Park.   

I didn't say it is logical, I said it happens. And it works.