Singapore parenting, practical reviews and tech notes

How a Tiny Galaxy Projector Fixed My Kid’s Fear of the Dark (While Travelling)

Ethan is afraid of the dark. Like properly afraid — the kind where every shadow is a monster and bedtime turns into a negotiation. We’ve tried night lights, leaving the door cracked, the whole routine. They help, but they don’t fix it.

So when we travel, I’ve started bringing along a secret weapon: a compact, USB-powered mini star/galaxy projector.

It’s small — about the size of a deck of cards — and runs off any USB port (power bank, laptop, wall adapter, whatever). And what it does to a dark room is honestly kind of magical.

How It Works

This little gadget projects a rotating starry sky with a detailed, textured moon onto the ceiling. It covers the entire ceiling in a field of bright, scattered stars with a soft galaxy nebula drift across the scene. The colours are cool blues and whites — calming, not harsh — and the gentle rotation creates a subtle motion that’s surprisingly soothing.

Instead of lying in the dark staring at a blank ceiling imagining things, Ethan now looks up at the night sky. The moon is big enough that it feels real, and the stars keep his attention in a good way — the way a campfire does.

Why It’s Great for Travel

  • USB-powered — plug it into a power bank, laptop, or wall charger. No batteries to hunt for.
  • Compact — fits in any carry-on pocket or toiletries bag.
  • Familiar comfort — hotel rooms / Airbnb apartments feel less foreign when the ceiling looks like your own bedroom galaxy.
  • Works as a night light — enough gentle light to navigate the room without being bright enough to disturb sleep.
  • Great for naps too — the slow rotation and soft light doubles as an ambient wind-down cue.

Not Just for Kids

I won’t lie — I’ve used it for myself too. After Ethan falls asleep, the galaxy projection makes the room feel like a cozy planetarium. It’s genuinely relaxing to lie there and watch the stars drift by. If you’re someone who finds it hard to wind down in unfamiliar places, this helps.

Get One

If you’ve got a kid (or an adult) who struggles with the dark — especially when travelling — I’d honestly recommend grabbing one. It’s cheap, tiny, and the effect on the room is way more impressive than you’d expect from something this size.

Check it out on Shopee — Affiliate links help keep this site running. (Prices and availability correct at time of posting.)

Tupperware Malaysia Is Closing Too — And This Time I Saw It Coming

Date: 2 June 2026

I’ve Been Here Before

When Tupperware Singapore shut down in December 2024, I was on holiday with my family. The email landed in my inbox with the subject line “Closure of Tupperware Singapore.” No warning. No runway. Just: stop everything, cease using the logo immediately, and figure the rest out yourself.

I wrote about that experience — the silence from management, the stock left piled up at home, the customers asking about warranties I could no longer honour. It was one of the more stressful chapters of my time as a distributor.

So when an email arrived on 30 May 2026 with the subject “Consultants Termination Notice” from Tupperware Malaysia, my stomach turned. Not because I was surprised. Because I knew exactly what was coming next for the people on the other end.

The Email That Says Everything

Here is the notice Tupperware Malaysia sent to its independent consultants, in full:


NOTICE OF TERMINATION OF INDEPENDENT CONSULTANT AGREEMENT

We write to you as a valued member of the Tupperware Brands Malaysia family.

Ministry of Domestic Trade and Cost of Living (“KPDN”) formally approved our application to transition to a new business model. As part of this transition, we are required to bring the existing Independent Consultant Agreement to a close.

This letter serves as formal notice of that termination pursuant to items 21 and 23 of the General Terms & Conditions of the Tupperware Brands Business Handbook, with an extended notice period of 30 days in place of the standard 7 days to allow you ample time to prepare.

This termination reflects no shortcomings on your part. It is a necessary step in our transition to the newly approved framework.

On 1 July 2026, the new business model will take effect.

In June 2026, you may continue to purchase and conduct your business as usual. All existing product warranties, customer commitments, and ongoing orders will be honoured in full by Tupperware Brands Malaysia. There will be no disruption to your day-to-day selling activities, and we remain fully committed to supporting you and your customers every step of the way.

Also, a Transition Guideline will be distributed to provide you with all the information (including further explanation on new contract requirements) you need to move forward with confidence.

During this transitional period, please be connected with your upline manager as they will walk you through the details of the new arrangement and keep you updated as things progress.

Should you have any questions about the content of this letter or wish to discuss your options further, please do not hesitate to reach out to your upline Manager or your DSMs. They will be happy to guide you through the process.

We are genuinely excited about what the new model brings and believe it will create an even stronger foundation for your business. We look forward to continuing this journey together, and to an exciting future ahead.

Thank you sincerely for your dedication and the trust you have placed in Tupperware Brands Malaysia.

The termination notice sent to Tupperware Malaysia consultants on 30 May 2026.

 

 Best regards,

Tupperware Brands Malaysia Sdn. Bhd.


The Language of Corporate Kindness

Let me translate that for anyone who has never been on the receiving end of a termination notice dressed in corporate optimism.

“Extended notice period of 30 days in place of the standard 7 days”

This is the line that floored me. The handbook apparently allows them to give just seven days notice. They are being “generous” by giving thirty. Thirty days to wind down a business some people have built over years or decades. Thirty days to clear stock, notify customers, and somehow pivot to a “new business model” that nobody has explained yet. The email mentions a “Transition Guideline” that will be distributed — future tense, no date given.

“This termination reflects no shortcomings on your part”

Of course it doesn’t. The consultants did nothing wrong. They sold the products, hit their targets, built their downlines, and trusted the brand. The shortcoming is entirely on the side of a company that has decided the independent consultant model no longer suits its corporate restructuring — after profiting from that exact model for years.

“We remain fully committed to supporting you”

In my Singapore experience, that commitment translated to an overwhelmed Division Sales Manager who stopped answering emails, and a directive to immediately stop using branding I had built my business around. I hope Malaysian consultants have a better experience. I am not optimistic.

What Happens to the Stock?

Here is the question the email delicately avoids: what do consultants do with the inventory they have already purchased?

Tupperware’s model encourages — and in some cases requires — consultants to hold stock. When the music stops, that stock does not magically turn back into cash. In my case, I was left with products I could no longer sell under the Tupperware name, and a customer base that suddenly had no warranty path. The email says “existing product warranties… will be honoured in full.” That is welcome news for customers. It does not help the consultant who has RM 5,000, RM 10,000, or RM 50,000 worth of product sitting in their spare room and no clear channel to move it.

What Happens to the People?

This is the part that genuinely bothers me. Tupperware in Malaysia is not just a product line. For many consultants — predominantly women, many of them running small home-based businesses — it has been a source of independent income, community, and identity.

You cannot tell someone to find a new livelihood in thirty days. You cannot tell them to “be connected with your upline manager” and call that a transition plan. The email reads like it was written by someone who has never had to explain to their children why the family business suddenly has a countdown timer on it.

Déjà Vu

Reading this notice gave me the same feeling I had in December 2024: the sense that a company I trusted was asking me to smile while it took something away. The phrasing is warmer this time — “genuinely excited,” “exciting future ahead” — but the substance is the same. The consultant relationship is being terminated. The business model is being upended. And the people who built that business are expected to adapt on a timeline that suits the company, not themselves.

I do not know what the “new business model” looks like. Maybe it will be better. Maybe it will cut out the independent consultant layer entirely and move to direct retail or e-commerce. If so, the people who did the groundwork — the home parties, the customer demos, the warranty claims — deserve more than a thirty-day heads-up and a promise of excitement.

My Take

I am not a lawyer, and I am not looking to start a fight with a multinational. But I have been through this once already, and I know what it feels like when the corporate music stops and you are the one left holding the stock.

If you are a Tupperware Malaysia consultant reading this: document everything. Count your inventory. Screenshot your agreements. Start talking to your customers now about what happens after 1 July. Do not wait for the “Transition Guideline” that may or may not answer your actual questions.

And if Tupperware Brands Malaysia is serious about honouring the trust people have placed in them, they should answer one simple question clearly and publicly: what exactly happens to the independent consultants after 1 July?

Because thirty days of “business as usual” is not a plan. It is a countdown.

I am a former Tupperware distributor based in Singapore. I ran a Tupperware-focused e-commerce business for over a decade. These views are my own, based on my personal experience and the communications I have received. I have no ongoing commercial relationship with Tupperware Brands Malaysia or Tupperware Brands Singapore.

My $1,499 Laptop Never Arrived — and Amazon Singapore Isn’t Caring

📢 Update @ 29 May 2026

This story has since been covered by Zaobao and Must Share News, with both reports picking up on the Amazon OTP delivery failure and the consumer-protection questions around high-value deliveries marked as completed without the parcel ever reaching the customer.


📢 Update @ 27 May 2026

Someone from Amazon’s Executive Relations team has since reached out to me and assured me that the matter is now being immediately investigated, including the conduct of the driver involved. I was also informed that a refund and goodwill compensation would be arranged for the experience.

I’ve replied to request visibility into the investigation outcome — even offering to sign an NDA if necessary — because after almost a month of uncertainty, contradictory responses, missed callbacks and a police report, I genuinely just want closure and to understand what actually happened.

Thank you to everyone who followed, shared advice, offered support, or simply amplified the story. I honestly wish I never had to embark on this journey in the first place, but I hope the discussion around OTP-based deliveries and consumer safeguards proves useful to others.


Call log showing +65 3163 6827 called at 1:42 PM on 28 April 2026 I was home. I was waiting. I was ready. On 28 April 2026, I was expecting an Amazon delivery — an Acer laptop, S$1,499, ordered the day before. Amazon had told me it required OTP verification. You know the drill: driver arrives, you give them a six-digit code, they hand you the box. Supposed to be more secure than leaving a package at the door. At 9:03 AM that morning, Amazon emailed me: “Arriving Today: A one-time password is required for your Amazon delivery.” Great, I thought — extra security for a big-ticket item. At 1:42 PM, my phone rang. Local number. Caller ID: 3163 6827. (Update: This is a VALID Amazon Logistics number!) “Hi, I’m your Amazon delivery driver. I need your OTP to complete the delivery.” I gave it to him. Why wouldn’t I? Amazon had literally emailed me four hours earlier telling me a driver would need my OTP. This was also my very first Amazon order that required OTP — I had no prior experience with the process, and nothing in the email made it obvious that a phone call was a red flag. The call ended. My Amazon app updated: “Delivered.” Nobody came to my door.
The call that started it all — 1:42 PM, 28 April 2026. Caller ID: 3163 6827.

The Part Where It Gets Worse

I checked my IP camera. I checked my smart doorbell. I reviewed the footage thoroughly. No driver, no delivery person anywhere near my unit at the time of the call. I contacted Amazon immediately. Amazon’s own customer service confirmed two things:
  1. There was no delivery photo or proof of delivery recorded for my order — their own SOP requires drivers to photograph the package at the recipient’s door
  2. OTPs are only supposed to be provided in person, at the point of delivery, entered directly into the driver’s device
So to recap: their driver (or someone claiming to be their driver) called me, asked for the OTP over the phone, used it to mark the package as delivered, and never showed up. Amazon’s system accepted the OTP without any delivery proof. At 1:44 PM, Amazon sent a “Delivered” email claiming “Parcel was handed to resident” — a statement their own system generated automatically, despite no delivery actually taking place. And now I’m the one out S$1,499.

The Number That Called Me

+65 3163 6827. It’s a Singapore VoIP number. While it’s normal for delivery companies to use VoIP or in-app calling to reach customers, what’s not normal is what happened next. And think about this: how did the caller know I had an Amazon delivery that day? How did they know it required an OTP? How did they know the exact delivery window? A random scammer doesn’t have access to Amazon’s internal delivery schedule. And even if someone tricked me into giving them the OTP over the phone — the OTP alone doesn’t make a physical laptop vanish from Amazon’s warehouse. Someone with access to Amazon’s logistics chain had to physically intercept the package. OTP fraud explains how the delivery was falsified. But only someone inside Amazon’s delivery operation could make the box disappear.

Enter Amazon’s “Leadership Team”

I filed a police report on 30 April (F/20260430/7***, assigned to Ang Mo Kio Division HQ). I then called Amazon and demanded escalation. I was connected to a supervisor named Kyle, who identified himself as being from the “Amazon Singapore Leadership Team.” During this phone call, Kyle advised me to place a replacement order for the same laptop — the replacement order. He said the investigation and refund would take time, and ordering a replacement was the fastest way to get my laptop. So I did, right there on the call with him. Let that sink in: if Amazon truly believed the original delivery was legitimate, why would their Leadership Team supervisor tell me to buy a second identical S$1,499 laptop? Why would anyone who just “received” a laptop need another one? After the call, Kyle sent a follow-up email. He said he had “set a follow-up on my account” and “raised this issue to the relevant team.” He asked for “2 business days to get an update.” On 2 May, Kyle emailed again. He said the specialist team was “coordinating with Logistics” and — I quote — “discussing the best possible compensation we can offer.” That was 2 May. I never heard from Kyle again. I chased on 5 May. Nothing. I chased again on 7 May from a different email address. Nothing. On 13 May, I called Amazon for an update. The agent I spoke to checked my case notes and told me Kyle was supposed to call me back on 15 May. “Please be patient,” he said. 15 May came and went. No call. No email. Nothing.

Today: The Mask Comes Off

Today is 23 May. My second Atome instalment for the laptop I never received is due soon. I decided to check on my case status again. This time, Amazon’s attitude was completely different. The agent told me — coldly — that because I had given the OTP, it was no longer Amazon’s responsibility. Case closed. I demanded a supervisor immediately. I explained that Kyle was supposed to follow up with me. I asked them to stop passing judgement without actually investigating. The supervisor who took over was curt. Kept repeating the same line: you gave the OTP, not our problem. And then — she hung up on me. Three weeks of silence. Two broken callback promises. A supervisor who literally hangs up on customers disputing a S$1,499 loss. This is Amazon Singapore’s idea of “customer service.”

The Part Where Amazon Blames You

Amazon’s position, when you strip away everything else: “You gave away the OTP. That’s on you.” Let’s lay out what Amazon did — and didn’t do:
  • Amazon sent me an OTP email at 9:03 AM, priming me to expect a driver to ask for the code
  • The one warning about not sharing the OTP over the phone was buried below the visible fold in the email — invisible on a mobile screen without scrolling past product details, tracking links, and delivery instructions
  • This was my very first OTP order — a S$1,499 laptop, not a S$20 cable. Amazon threw a first-time OTP user into the deep end on a premium purchase
  • Their system accepted the OTP remotely without requiring the driver to take a delivery photo — standard procedure that every other delivery driver follows
  • Their system auto-generated a false statement: “Parcel was handed to resident”
  • Their Leadership Team told me to buy a replacement laptop — implicitly acknowledging the first one was never received
  • They promised compensation, then ghosted me for three weeks
  • They promised a callback on 15 May — never happened
  • When I finally pushed for answers, a supervisor hung up on me
Amazon has all the tools to investigate this: chat logs, call recordings, driver GPS data, which driver account redeemed the OTP, whether the caller number matches the assigned driver. They could determine exactly what happened. They have chosen not to.

What I’ve Done So Far

  • Filed a police report within 48 hours (F/20260430/7***, assigned to Ang Mo Kio Division HQ)
  • Contacted Amazon repeatedly across chat, phone, and email over nearly four weeks
  • Escalated to their self-declared Leadership Team (who then ghosted me)
  • Contacted Atome (my BNPL provider) — they said “pursue merchant resolution first”
  • Saved every email, call log, and screenshot
I’m not letting this go. S$1,499 isn’t pocket change, and even if it were — the principle matters. Companies don’t get to design insecure systems, bury the safety warnings, generate false delivery claims, and then hang up on customers who try to hold them accountable.

What You Should Know

If you’re waiting for an Amazon OTP delivery:
  • The driver should never ask for your OTP over the phone. Ever. If someone calls asking for it, they’re not your driver.
  • Don’t hand over the code until you see the box and the driver at your door. That’s literally the point of OTP.
  • If you’re scammed, file a police report immediately. Amazon will drag things out, and evidence degrades.
  • Know that Amazon will try to blame you. Their go-to move is “you gave the OTP, case closed.” Don’t accept it.
Amazon’s OTP system is only as secure as the process around it. Right now, that process has a gap big enough to drive a delivery van through — assuming the van actually shows up. Police report filed: F/20260430/7***. This post will be updated as the case develops.

Xiaomi 212W HyperCharge Power Bank 24500 review: heavy, powerful, and travel-ready

The first thing people ask when they see me using the Xiaomi 212W HyperCharge Power Bank 24500 is not about charging speed.

It is usually some version of: “Wah, so heavy?”, “Drop on my foot can break a bone”, or “Your bag not heavy enough?”

Fair. This is not a cute little pocket power bank. It is the sort of power bank that looks like it has opinions about your cable management. But hear me out.

Xiaomi 212W HyperCharge Power Bank 24500 showing 100 percent battery on a laptop
Xiaomi 212W HyperCharge Power Bank 24500, also known as the “yes, I know it is heavy” power bank.

Why I wanted one big power bank instead of many small ones

Devices are more power hungry than ever, and travelling with power banks has somehow become more troublesome than ever too.

The irony is that the most troublesome place to travel to and within, at least for power banks, can be China, the place that manufactures so many of the world’s power banks. I had my fair share of confiscated power banks during my China trip in 2024, and the newer 3C / Triple C certification checks make it even more annoying when you are taking trains or flights within and out of China.

Then there are the airline limits. The important number here is watt-hours, not the marketing mAh number. This Xiaomi unit is rated at 89Wh, which keeps it under the common 100Wh airline threshold. That matters because I do not want to stand at security explaining a mystery power brick while my children are asking for snacks.

Basically, on the next family trip, I want to avoid whipping out six different power banks for inspection. I am already the designated family power supply person: chargers, cables, power banks, and the quiet resentment that comes from everyone asking me where their cable is.

The practical appeal: 212W across three ports

The headline number is 212W total output, but the useful part is the port mix. It can do up to 140W from USB-C1, up to 45W from USB-C2, and up to 120W from USB-A under the right cable/device conditions.

In plain English: this is powerful enough to be relevant for a laptop, iPad Pro, iPhones, and other hungry devices. I do not need every device to charge at maximum speed all the time. I just need one battery pack that can handle the family travel pile without immediately giving up.

The colour display is also genuinely useful. I like seeing remaining power and charging speed without guessing from four tiny blinking dots like it is 2012.

The weight is the trade-off

Let’s not pretend. This is heavy. If your idea of a power bank is something you keep in a jeans pocket, this is not it.

But the weight is not pointless. Inside are five 4,900mAh cells, giving it the 24,500mAh headline capacity and the 89Wh travel-relevant rating. That is the whole reason this thing exists: fewer power banks, more usable output, less cable chaos.

For daily commute use, I would still pick something smaller. For travel, especially with a family of four, this makes much more sense to me.

Charging the power bank itself

Another reason I like this category of power bank: it can recharge itself quickly. Xiaomi lists up to 100W input through USB-C1, with a full self-charge in as fast as about 2.5 hours under the right charger and cable conditions.

That is important because a huge power bank that takes forever to recharge becomes another chore. If I can top it up quickly at night in the hotel, it is much easier to justify carrying it.

Who this is for

This is for the person who ends up carrying everyone’s power needs while travelling. Parents, gadget-heavy workers, people with laptops and tablets, or anyone who has been emotionally damaged by airport battery anxiety.

It is not for someone who only needs to rescue a phone once in a while. It is also not the cheapest or lightest option. The point is consolidation: one serious, airline-friendly power bank instead of a messy pouch of smaller ones.

My verdict

The Xiaomi 212W HyperCharge Power Bank 24500 is overkill in exactly the way I wanted.

It is heavy, yes. It may also win in a fight against your toes. But for travel, especially with multiple devices and a family that treats me as a walking charging station, I would rather carry one serious power bank than play power-bank bingo at security.

If you are travelling through places with stricter battery checks, the 89Wh rating and proper certification angle are the key reasons this one caught my attention.

Where to buy