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by Mo Hassem,  a Systems Architect and a father of four beautiful children. Having no manual he does the best I can in the parenting department.  His bantering on life the universe and everything can be found at OPotB

Driving through the traffic on the freeway, completely engrossed in my own world, the silence is broken by my son Adam, strapped into his booster chair on the back seat.
“What is that?”, at two and a half he asks the age old question, asked by all children of his age, when he sees something that catches his eye.  I glance over my shoulder trying to figure out what exactly has caught his eye (this is done in the flash of an eye as my mind unconsciously observes the direction he is looking in, compensates for the speed of the car, sifts through the traffic and spots the most outstanding object, applies some statistical analysis and assesses the probability that, that would be the object he would be referring to, as only a parent can-who said all that stuff you learn at school is useless).
“A big red truck”, I reply.



When talking to other parents, many a times I hear them say, how their lives have changed when the children arrived.  I have often thought about it, and no doubt they have changed my life.  I guess in my younger days, when my eldest son was born, just witnessing the miracle of a perfect human, in miniature, fascinated me.  My youngest son, born just two and a half years ago, has a totally different impact on me as an adult.

As an adult, tempered by experience, it seems as though other things have become more important and priorities have changed.  So much so that my life has been defined by these and my judgement has been tainted, and I find that it is more and more difficult to see the beauty in things.  And this is what my son has brought back into my life.

I have rediscovered the joys of the simple things in life. A pretty little flower growing on the roadside, the petals of the roses as they unfold revealing the bud of the flower. The smell of lawn freshly cut and watered, or the freshness of the soil as the rain drenches it.  The fresh scent of a bed of flowers, the smell of herbs cooking and infusing food with its delectable aroma and taste.  And by far the most pleasurable of all, the love in those little arms as they fold around me, hug me and hold me close.

Thank you my son for being such a great teacher.  Has anyone seen the big red truck on the highway?

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