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Through the eyes of a child.

My daughter called, saying she had just picked up her four-year-old from kindergarten, and this was the conversation in the car as they waited at the next pickup place on the school run.

‘Did you know, Mummy…’ Tia paused thoughtfully. ‘If we all work together and help each other, the world would be a better place.’

‘That’s right,’ Mum agreed.

‘Like… Granddad is good at fixing things, and Grandma can cook.’ Tia leaned forward from the back seat and tapped her mother on the shoulder. ‘And you’re good at making muffins. And Daddy is good at killing kangaroos!’

dump truckAfter we had a good laugh on the phone, I thought about it. Tia’s daddy is the only one willing to drive the grader at a ridiculous angle on the edge of a cliff. He drives huge mining dump trucks that have wheels taller than my house. He’s been asked to mentor men almost twice his age. Tia has no idea what he really can do. To her, he’s a hero for what she does know.

It made me think back to my dad. My earliest memory of him is walking (me almost jogging) through the city streets of Perth, holding onto his little finger. As long as I held on, I was not going to get lost or left behind. The fondest memory I have is waiting at the top of the hill and watching for his motorbike to come around the corner way down at the bottom of the hill. Sometimes he would stop and let one of us hop on the back for a ride home (3 houses away) while the rest of us – and the neighbours – would race them home. To me, back then, he was good at fixing things, and chopping wood. Yet now I know he was good at so much more…

Would any of you like to share what your dad was good at?

DJ

(c) DJ Stutley 2015

 

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