Hello, beautiful people! Welcome to my blog. It's a pleasure to have you in this space. Once again, welcome 馃
If you have or have been around kids, you would agree with me, beyond any iota of doubt, that they are so adorable. The ingenuity of their minds is just mind-blowing. You could hear a child make some mature statements, statements that sound way above what their supposed little minds could fathom. Sometimes a child would talk, and you would turn around and start looking for who stood behind the child to inform or suggest what the child said.
My daughter is three years old; the brilliance of her mind dazzles me every time. She says things that not just make me laugh but leave me wondering where she learned the kinds of words she uses in her grammatical construct and, most especially, how she knew what words to combine with which at every given point in time. While it is good to have a smart child, it can place some sort of mental pressure on the parent or guardian to keep up with the child's train of thoughts so that you do not sound antiquated or expose the generational gap in reasoning.
So a few days ago I sat in the sitting room, snacking on some biscuits while scrolling through my phone, when my daughter walked up to me and called out to me, "Mummy." I answered her, "Yes, my darling." She then asked, "Mummy, can I have some biscuits?" My response to her was, "No, you cannot have some of my biscuits." My daughter did not say anything to me and walked away; in short, she went to the room, and honestly, I had forgotten we even had a conversation. In the space of about ten minutes later, she came out of the room to the sitting room and called out to me; as usual, I responded to her, and the following conversation ensued.
Daughter: Mummy
Me: Yes, my darling.
Daughter: You said Jesus said we should be giving.
Me: Yes, DD
Daughter: Jesus said we should be sharing everything we have with other people, right?
Mummy: yes (at this time, I was getting uneasy because I was no longer sure where the conversation was headed anymore, as I have learned by experience how she can be when she wants something).
Daughter: Then why did you not give me your biscuit? Why did you not share with me? When I have my own biscuit, I will not give it to you, and I will tell Jesus not to be your friend.
After she threw the bomb on me, she walked out and went to her room. There I sat, looking at the child I gave birth to; I was torn between laughing and calling her back to apologize.
images are ai generated
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