With the gentle glow of the nightlight creating a cozy atmosphere in her room, I put my 5-year-old daughter to bed and asked her, “What was your favorite present today?” She hesitated for a moment, seemingly lost in thought, her tiny fingers tracing the edge of her blanket, and I wondered if she would say something genuinely sincere. Then, after a few seconds, she looked up at me gravely and said, “Spending the day with you, mummy.” Her response made my heart melt; it was the kind of response that gave me the impression that I was doing something right, that I was her world, and that everything else could wait.
She added, “Haha, not really, it was the Lego cupcake set.” As I was about to enjoy the sweetness of her words, she burst out laughing, and I couldn’t help but laugh at her abrupt change of tone. Her innocent tone made it clear that her priorities were still very much shaped by the tangible joys of childhood. She held up her Peppa Pig book, flipping through the pages with a mischievous grin, and her world seemed to be one of constant switching between love and play, tenderness and fun, and I found it endearing as it reminded me of how unpredictable and pure children’s emotions can be.
I sat beside her for a moment longer, watching her face light up as she read her favorite story. It struck me how simple moments like this—snuggled up together at the end of the day—are the ones I would remember most. As much as the material gifts mattered, it was this time with her that felt like the real treasure. Eventually, she gave me a sleepy smile and mumbled something about going to bed, her eyes heavy with drowsiness. As I kissed her goodnight, I realized that the best gift wasn’t the Lego set or the Peppa Pig book. It was these fleeting moments, these everyday exchanges, that would stay with me forever.
