Love letters from my daughter.

Kymaia writes a mail to her mum and me every day. I mean, that's how it would be ideally. But in practice, she writes once in 2, or sometimes 3, days. As a father, that is enough for me and will probably last me in my old age as things to open and read again and again, reliving these days. (Hat tip, my late father, who used to say, 'The good old days of 20 years from now are happening to you right now. Enjoy them.' He was, as usual, right.).

I am just so much in love with her email correspondence. I hope she keeps writing to me like this until my last days.

Her process is as intricate as it is obsessive. She'll think of what she wants to say, then ask me spellings (most things we discuss are already on the glass board in the dining area, including spellings) of some difficult words, write them out, then ask me for synonyms of some words she finds 'boring', then compose the email, read it aloud in her room (I'm sorry Kym, I eavesdrop just to hear your sweet voice...and since I am mostly working from the brook adjoining yours, it's easy), and finally send it, before coming out skipping from her room and telling me to check it so I can read it and say something nice to her. Usually, I'd find a spelling or punctuation or syntax error and she'd give me kisses for each mistake! I think sometimes, she does it on purpose.

The way she seeks my approval is painful to watch, because I know that it may hinder her progress if she keeps it up, and it will make me sad if she learns that it is unnecessary and stops doing it. Even then, I prefer the latter. Soon, I hope she grows up and stops caring what I, or indeed anyone, think of her and what she says and does.

But that's for the future. That day will come. But it is not today.

P.S: For writing such a lovely mail (after 2 days of nothing), she gets to have her favourite Filet-O-Fish and fries from McDonald's, and also watch television (she likes to watch something called '7-second riddles' from Bright Side on YouTube, if I am not wrong) while eating, a privilege reserved for the rarest of rare occasions like today.

The day's teaching. Baba bear explains binomial nomenclature.