“You need to tidy up your playroom now!” I chided my daughter, my my voice an octave higher than usual, treating her as if I were disciplining my errant students. She finally stopped playing with her dolls and got down to rearranging her cornucopia of toys and knick-knacks. Call me cruel, if you will, but I have taught long enough to realise that good habits had to be inculcated from young and that character trumps grades. So, it was pivotal of me to teach her how to pick up after herself.

After what seemed like an eternity, the playroom looked somewhat inhabitable, with less visual clutter that would annoy their mother. I ushered them out of the house, trying to ignore the gnawing hunger in my stomach. My hunger was momentarily forgotten when the three-year-old looked at me in the eye and said, “Thank you, Daddy, for cleaning up my playroom.”

I don’t know who taught her such good manners - it sure wasn’t me - but I experienced naches.