My Little daughter

It’s a story about our little daughter named Ifa. She is 8 years old and attends Elementary School. Ifa is our second daughter, she has one older sister and one younger brother. He grew up as an independent little girl. In fact, I think tend to be stubborn. Barely able to be friendly to anyone. If you say always with a tone and a cold face. The point is, in my opinion, she is not a nice kid. At least until that day. Because I work outside the home, the intensity of my meetings with children is also limited. Usually, I will start the day in a hurry and more screaming to ask the children also get ready. Going home, in the afternoon I found the children are already tired of playing all day. In addition to my already tired body, I barely have time to relax with the kids. Fortunately for me, children grow up with an independent attitude. All they do without relying on the help of his mother. Especially for my daughter ifa, she is somewhat different from other kids.
If another child is so spoiled with his parents, my daughter rarely shows me a spoiled attitude either to me or to her father. I also noticed her relationship with her brother and sister. I often screamed angrily when she deliberately made her sister cry. I also scolded her when she dared to hit her sister.
Essentially I rate my daughter has a problem with her social attitude. I was a bit worried about her association at school. Does she have friends or friends? Is she liked her friend? Or is she giving much trouble to her teacher? Those questions often haunt me.
Until one day I was startled by a phone call from someone who claimed to be the mother of my daughter ifa schoolmate. The woman cried begging me to allow Ifa to meet her daughter at the hospital. She did not tell me much just said was her daughter seriously ill and kept calling my daughter’s name. I allow it and are willing to drop the ifa to the hospital to see a friend.
At the hospital, I saw a very moving sight. A child my child’s age lies with his head in a bandage. Her eyes were teary with tears. She kept crying while she called my daughter’s name. Her mother said she did not recognize anyone by the impact on her head when she fell off the bike. But to my amazement, why is that kid calling my child’s name? Slowly ifa holds her friend’s hand. And miraculous thing happened. The little girl smiled into the face of ifa. They both laughed together. I can not see it all. I cried with the woman beside me. Her mother thanked me for bringing her ifa to the hospital. At least it can cheer up his son before undergoing surgery.
On the way home, I asked my daughter. He told me about Zica, his ailing friend. Apparently, according to my daughter, Zica is not her best friend. He shunned his classmates for being famous for doing mischief. One day, Zica took my daughter to play during the break time. Because seeing the other friends no one wants to accompany her, my daughter finally wants to play with her because of pity. While playing, Zica accidentally wet his pants. Her dirty clothes were exposed to her urine. Without my guess, my daughter is capable of being mature. She helped Zica to clean her urine traces. Ifa also took the initiative to ask teachers to call Zica’s parents. Unwittingly, her helpfulness had saved Zica from embarrassment to her classmates.
The next day, while playing in her house, Zica fell off the bike and hit her head with a sharp rock. She suffered from severe bleeding and several nerves in her brain were affected. Zica does not recognize anyone even her mother. He just kept crying in pain. And unexpectedly, it may be stored in her brain memory of events that impress her when helped by Ifa.
Hearing my daughter’s story, there is regret in my heart. I am sorry to have given my daughter a ‘label’ as an unpleasant person. I’ve been wrong all along. She is my little daughter who has a softer heart than all her friends. She has his own way to love others without being nice. I am very proud of her.
From then on, after work, I would give more time to listen to the sweet stories of my children. No matter how tired I am, I will make them a great source. And to this day I am very happy to have the full confidence of my children as their place of telling.

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