“Papa, I need to be in school at 7a.m. tomorrow.”
Anticipating my question, the answer was quick and simple: “No.”
“Pretty pretty please?”
(Turning to his wife) “Eh your daughter wants a lift to school.”
Sensing a chink in the armour, I put my currying skills to good use, “You’re the best, most fantastic father in the whole wide world!”
And sure enough, bright and early the following morning he is up and about, ready to get me out of bed and to send me to school. Such is a father’s love.
Some people ask him, “Why do you spoil your daughter like that?”
But he and I both know the answer.
It’s during these long rides across Singapore that we get to talk. Just the two of us.
Some conversations are silly:
“Papa, why’s there a scratch on your arm?”
“Your Mummy lor.”
Others perhaps less so:
“So you like X? Why do you like him?”
“How are the two of you doing? Got quarrel or not?”
I’ve come to realize that giving in to me isn’t always about spoiling me. The conversations, whether fun or uncomfortable, are his way of respectfully setting the limits, imparting his values and watching over me. In turn, when I involve him in my life, I find him to be a wise friend to talk to and learn from.
Best of all, we both get to grow together; he as a parent of someone no longer a little girl and me as a budding adult. Growing up can be scary, and knowing that I have a wonderful “older” person to shed some light along the way definitely eases things abit. So… thank you Papa!