1. She challenges me to embrace my inner child

Just the other day, we were at a toy store looking for a birthday present for one of her friends who was going to have a birthday party that weekend. Claire got all fascinated by a video demonstration of a balloon-making kit, where the demonstrator was showing how easy it was to make balloon animals.

“Mummy, can we get this?” she pleaded, handing me the box that promised on the box to make me an expert at making balloon dogs.

I looked into her little eyes, gave a little sigh and went “Alright.” I know that I’d have to spend the next hour or so learning how to make a balloon dog.

I brought that balloon kit home, tore open the box, played and replayed the secret link given in the instructions to the YouTube video that promised to teach me how to make a knot in the balloon in super quick time, and I still could not get the hang of making a knot after watching video for the upteenth time.

Claire in the meantime, was splaying all the balloons in its various colours on the floor of my room.

“Mama, can I have a red doggy?”

“As soon, as Mama can figure out how to make this, o.k?

20 minutes and a couple of popped balloons later, I made my very first balloon doggy. I was filled with joy.

And after that I was smitten! I made a couple more and Claire was ecstatic :) and she proceeded to bring her little balloon doggies out for a stroll.

The best reward out of that whole experience was just seeing that glow of the smile on her face.

I felt like a superhero after that.

2. I get to be her most favourite person in the whole wide world

(Papa gets his turn too, but we’ll leave that for another article)

Claire loves drawing. Just give her a stack of drawing paper and a box of crayons and she will sit and draw for quite some time.

One of her favourite themes is that of ‘Mummy and Me’.

“Look Mama” she’ll say as she gives me one of her drawings. “That’s you and that’s me!”

Her eyes are always open too, to the possibility of ‘Mummy and Me’ in her surroundings. We were visiting the Museum of Contemporary Art (MOCA) in downtown Los Angeles and we spent some time playing with the leaves at the outdoor water feature next to MOCA.

“Look Mama!” She said pointing to two leaves floating in the water, one big and one small. “That’s you and that’s me!”

Another time, we were walking back to our hotel in Montreal when we passed by a coffee shop. The shop was closed, but plastered on the glass windows was a huge decal of a big cookie and a smaller cookie next to it. “Mama! That’s you and that’s me!!” she yelled out gleefully.

Claire also loves to pluck little flowers from plants and trees that she encounters along the way, and often runs up to me, with an excited little smile, cupping her little present of flowers in her hand, saying : “Mama! This is for you!”

And when I step through the doors of the house after being away from home for a couple of hours, Claire always runs to the door, with her hands stretched out for a hug, yelling : “Mama!”

It’s these little things that make my heart melt.

3. She makes me realize that I still have a lot to learn about love...from her.

I dropped Claire off at school the other day and she saw that I was not wearing my sweater.

“Mummy, you don’t have a sweater! I’ll keep you warm!” And she threw her arms around my neck, rubbed her little hands together to warm them up, and touched my cheeks with her hands. My heart felt really warm that day.

Another time, I’d given her a bowl of blueberries and she had asked for the biggest, bluest ones, because she knows that they are the sweetest.

As I was clearing up the kitchen, I heard her yelling with joy : “Mama! I found the biggest blueberry!” and she came running into the kitchen to show me her blueberry, with a gleeful, big smile on her face. Then she looked at me seriously, held out her blueberry and said : “You can have it.”

I said : “Why don’t you eat it?” and she repeated :“No Mama, you can have it.” Ah, my sweet little girl. I ate the blueberry while praising its sweetness, kissed Claire and thanked her for her kindness and generosity and she was pleased.

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One of my favourite storybooks is 'The Giving Tree' by Shel Silverstein.

The themes of love and sacrifice are intrinsically intertwined in our lives and it helps to always reflect on where we are, where we've come from and where we are going.

This column is my 'journal' of sorts, to explore the intersection between the roots and wings of this life.

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4. Unlike her mother, Claire’s sense of comedic timing is spot-on

I brought Claire to my favourite ramen shop in LA’s ‘Little Osaka’, Daikokuya, after cathechism class the other day and as we stood in line for a table, she said : “Up! Up!”, so I carried her, then I complained that my back was going to break because she was getting so heavy, at which point in time, she quickly scampered down, ran to my back, got under my coat and started massaging my back by thumping on it with her little fists while saying : “I’m concerned about your back.”

Another time, she was in the kitchen about to eat the watermelon that I’d cut up into cubes for her, and she kept dropping her fork on the ground. The third time she dropped her fork, she looked at me, threw her hands up in the air in mock exasperation and declared : “I’m a disaster!” at which point I burst out laughing! I don’t know where she learnt that expression from, but it was spot-on funny.

Kids are like sponges. They pick up words so quickly. I’m continually surprised by the words that Claire chooses in her everyday conversation.

A week ago, I laid out a couple of dresses for her to choose from and she looked at me and said : “Are these my options?”

And just a few days ago, she complained that she hadn’t had much water that day. “I’m getting dehydrated!” she declared.

I guess it helps that we’ve been borrowing tons of books from the library!

In the meantime, I’ll continue to jot down these little nuggets in my journal. I’m sure someday, Claire will get a kick out of reading what her mummy has written about her, and recall these all-too-fleeting childhood moments.

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