My brother from the US came back home Monday, around 1 a.m., with a boxful of presents for my two girls: plenty of clothes, a boardgame, chocolates and a lot of books. Before I went to bed, I put the boardgame and all the clothes on the daybed, the chocolates on top of the dining table and the books on top of the piano.
We were still asleep when the girls woke up at 6 a.m. Nanny Cathy told us that when they came down the staircase they immediately spotted the stash awaiting them. The little one cried out, "Mama mia!!!" while my eldest muttered "Ohmigosh...ohmigosh...ohmigosh" and headed towards---the piano.
I constantly worry about them. What kind of persons they will turn out to be. How they will deal with life's not-so-good surprises. How they will survive without their dad. How they can carry on without me.
But it looks like my kids know their priorities very well, even at the tender ages of 7 and 6. Maybe I shouldn't be worried, after all. No, I really shouldn't.