My high-spirited nephew Caleb has unstoppable energy. Quietening a six-year-old boy when he's bouncing off the walls in all directions counts as a feat in my book.

But I've realised that his hunger for wonder is one of his 'pause' buttons. Show him something new or fun and he pipes down.

And the world is new and wondrous to him, even the littlest things.

A year ago, this early waker popped into my room to play. I told him my alarm clock would chime soon.

A ho-hum everyday moment?

Not for him. When the digital display flashed 6am and the tinkling tune of the alarm began, his eyes widened and his mouth formed a silent, surprised O in the half-light.

His delightful response reminds me of a couple of lines on wonder penned by G.K. Chesterton, a larger-than-life London journalist who wrote so memorably in the early 20th century.

'A child of seven is excited by being told that Tommy opened a door and saw a dragon,'' Chesterton said.

'But a child of five is excited by being told that Tommy opened a door.'

Caleb's sister, Megan, is nine. Her sense of wonder is boosted by books and travel.

Her mother, my sister Annie, e-mailed me during their Hokkaido ski trip last year.

On their first night, the family took a three-hour bus ride from the airport to the high, powdery slopes. It started snowing and my sister asked Megan if it was like a fairy tale book coming true.

The girl, still bright-eyed at the late hour, said: 'Mama, it's my dream come true.'

My own sense of wonder also lights up when I travel.

I remember feeling all churched-out in Spain after visiting one too many extravagant places of worship.

But I was enraptured all over again when I stepped inside a cathedral that had somehow configured its ceiling with a cloud-like stairway that appeared to dissolve into the heavens.

This grand sculpture was based on the Bible story of Jacob and his dream of the stairway to Heaven, with angels ascending and descending.

The idea was ethereal. But the other idea was that it didn't matter that Jacob was a fugitive in the wilderness and his pillow was a rock.

He still experienced wonder amid woe.

For Singaporeans who are so heavily task-directed, travel has become a 'safe' place to express wonder, curiosity and the inner child.

Possibly, we haven't given ourselves enough room to relax and play in Singapore.

Or maybe many of us are too cool for wonder?

Yet, play is creative and wonder is infused with learning possibilities. That was the way we grasped a complex world as kids. Part of our brain is still designed that way.

On my various visits to hyper-creative places like California's Silicon Valley, New York's Silicon Alley, Starbucks in Seattle, and from watching many American firms, I was always struck by the vital mix of play and strategy in the workplace.

Even at a tiny Manhattan software firm, employees were skateboarding and they had the luxury of a sushi bar.

I once met Jeff Bezos in his early days as Amazon founder, and the playful entrepreneur spoke about inserting 'serendipity' into the online experience. That way, people can chance upon books, as if they were wandering in a real store.

And just look at the playful spirit of Nasa, the National Aeronautics and Space Administration, which pioneers space exploration.

It displays amazing pictures of stars and galaxies on its website and has lots of fun captioning them.

I love one photograph showing a cosmic burst of violet, orange and sea-green flames in the outer darkness that Nasa titled 'Dead star creates celestial havoc''.

It takes me back to the time when I was five or six. I was lying on the grass on Fort Canning Hill and suddenly grew aware of stars and infinity in the early evening sky. That moment of wonder has taken wing in my life.

When I think about it, Singapore engenders wonder too. This grew clear when I moved home last year after a long time away, and the country was new again to me.

Someone once observed that Singapore's creativity has been uniquely expressed in the way it built institutions.

As I worked on stories and encountered policy-makers, I've marvelled at the way this country began in the swamps and ended somewhere closer to the stars.

This article was first published in The Sunday Times on May 4, 2008.