1) Fatherhood helps me access a side of me otherwise unexplored.
I make it a point to get my son to read a Chinese book straight after I fetch him from school. It isn’t a bed of roses, for he is in a cheeky mood sometimes and reads everything as 大便 💩. But there are days in which he is cooperative, and his mind is open like the stomata on the underside of leaves during photosynthesis. I enjoy introducing him to new Chinese characters. I enjoy how his reading has improved bit by bit like the Lego blocks he so relishes building.
I think my quiet yet smug satisfaction arises from the fact that I really like Chinese. If I were child-free, I wouldn’t have the opportunity to immerse myself in the world of Chinese.
2) Fatherhood connects me to my family lineage
I’m a carbon copy of my dad; we look like two peas in a pod.
Okay, enough with the cliched metaphors. Anyway, the context I provide should be enough to help you understand the pangs of joy that take my breath away when I sometimes look at my daughter.
My wife has said it often, and I agree with her. My daughter resembles my mum, especially when she wore a cheongsam for Chinese New Year.
Another example. Today was Youth Day, so I picked up my boy earlier from his kindergarten and embarked on a mini adventure with him. We were to visit Ang Mo Kio Library for the first time. I remember my mum used to take me there when I was a child. Now that the National Library Board has plans to demolish it, I feel a sense of urgency to take him to this library at least once. I want to let him know the places that hold an irreplaceable place in my heart.
3) Fatherhood allows me to witness simple, yet powerful joys
The son recently went back to loving MRT trains, so we boarded the train from Khatib to Yishun after school. Never mind that it was only a subway stop. Upon reaching Yishun MRT station, he asked to borrow my phone and sprinted to the side of the platform that would head towards Sembawang. Then, as the train went on its way, he gleefully took a video of its passage, motivated by the fact that he could show it off to his mummy later.
On the other hand, the daughter has recently created a playground slide 🛝 of her own. Leveraging available resources - namely my legs -, she slid down from my chest to my toes, whooping with joy every single time. I have to hand it over to her ingenuity.
Both incidents reminded me that we don’t always have to spend money in order to have a whale of a time.
4) Fatherhood lets me witness children’s zest for life.
If trending threads from the subreddit r/asksingapore are anything to go by, many adult Singaporeans find neither joy nor meaning in their pedestrian lives. They share the tedium of their routines and lament how hard it is to cultivate hobbies.
They can take a leaf from my six-year-old. He is like a grasshopper on steroids, hopping energetically from one passion to another. ‘Passion’ may sound a tad extreme, but I’m not embellishing his ways. Case in point: ladybugs 🐞. After discovering a ladybug toy in his sister’s Kinder Joy chocolates, he rekindled his love for this insect. Agog with the sweet innocence only a pre-schooler can muster, he threw himself into all things ladybugs. From drawing leaves to watching ladybug videos on YouTube to buying more Kinder Joy chocolates, he made it very clear that his life is now about LADYBUGS.
I do hope that he doesn’t let life’s sharp edges blunt his spontaneous zest for life.
