Bring Back the Old Ovaltine, Please

One of my most-prized toys when I was a kid was a set of thumb-sized plastic construction vehicles that came with every can of Ovaltine.  There was a bulldozer, an excavator, a compactor, even a cement-grinder possibly.  They were given by my uncle Ariel who had patiently collected them while he worked in a friend's grocery in Vigan.  The man specifically made sure I had all the vehicles in the set, and I will forever be grateful.

Later, Ovaltine came out with another line--spacecrafts.  Still thumbsized, still colorful plastic, and this time around, there's even a game board which you cut from selected magazines.

I don't know where those toys are now--both the construction vehicles and the spacecrafts.  Me and my sister Neah and cousins had a good time playing with them.  In those days, I had my favorite which was the compactor, and when you're a kid, you don't ask yourself why that particular vehicle or spaceship is your favorite; you just know it.  For the life of me, I can't find a single picture of those Ovaltine toys in Google.  Maybe nobody had thought of taking pictures of them.

Ovaltine doesn't bury freebies in the chocolate powder anymore, for happy, giddy kids to unearth.  Sad, I know.  Those were the carefree 90's when BFAD regulations regarding plastic stuff embedded in food were still lax.  I remember the triumphant joy every time I'd pull out a toy which I still don't have yet, because, of course, it'd be a bummer if I got the same darn thing each time. 

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Needless to say, I'm an Ovaltine child, not a Milo kid.  Ovaltine had toy freebies  Milo, on the other hand, appealed to your sports-minded senses.  The choice was clear-cut for me.

In those days, the commercials for Milo's Sports Clinic featured perfectly good-natured kids who can competently spin a basketball on the tip of their thumb.  Ovaltine didn't have a Sports Clinic at all, but then again, when you've got spaceships and construction vehicles to occupy your hands and mind, who needs to know how to dribble scientifically or shoot a ball like a pro? 

So simplistically you might say Milo fueled the body while Ovaltine, the imagination.  Milo was for athletes, Ovaltine was for geeks.
    
Of course, looking back now, I wish there was a part of me which could have gotten interested in sports even just a little, because, dang, I sink in pools and can't properly return a gently bouncing ping-pong ball.  (Lesson: never ever underestimate ping-pong again.) 
Now that the Azkals are suddenly getting everyone to kick and chase after balls, I wish I could do that too without looking like I'm going to asphyxiate every five minutes.  Suddenly, that ball spinning feat on the tip of the thumb looks very appealing.  I wonder, if kids drank Ovaltine and Milo alternately, would they grow up to be a geeky athlete? 

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The last time I checked at the supermarkets, Ovaltine has a new look.  There are no more Ovaltine cans; now they come in tall glass jars, with a nice gold Swiss cross.  And because there are no commercials touting toy freebies inside Ovaltine jars, you can bet there'd be nada no matter how deep you dig.  Which sucks, if you ask me.