My six year old daughter told me yesterday, "I want to change my last name."
Me (rolled eyes dramatically): Yeah? To what?
Daughter : Obama. My name would be Nina Obama.
Me (laughed, and then stayed speechless)
Moral of the conversation :
"If you have a dream, aim it high, big, and almighty. Don't settle for a second best."
Tuesday, March 18, 2014
Thursday, March 13, 2014
Here’s the thing.
This is a lovely box. My friends used this box to put my birthday present inside. I remembered that the gift was lovely, just as lovely as the box. That’s why I keep them both all these years.
Last night, my six year old daughter pulled the box out from under piles of boxes in our storage and brought it to me and asked if she could use it for her art. My daughter is known for her growing talent in transforming junks into creative, beautiful arts, and last night, holding the box in her tiny hands, looking at me with creative fire in her eyes, she told me she wanted to use that box to make some Lion King’s masks. It means she would cut the box, splash paints and God knows what all over it, shred some of it, all in the name of making her art.
I said no. When she whined, I snapped, “Don’t ruin the box. If you want to make something, find yourself some other ugly junks.”
Translation : My box is prettier than your upcoming art.
I think I broke her heart a little last night.
I found her a nice shoebox after that and she quietly retreated back into her room and created her arts. She cut, she tore, she painted, she glued, and she created. She’s done it all with a slight gloom on her face, and I know why. She thinks I thought her arts were junks.
Don’t do what I did.
Here’s the thing.
It’s just a goddamn box in a storage full of junks.
Next to it is my kid’s creative heart.
I should have known which one was more important.