Board books aint boring

“Wow, that's a massive library of board books.”

Was surprised too.

Until I realized my child's little library is worth one iPhone Pro Max plus a brand-new top-of-the-line PlayStation.

PSA for incoming parents: children’s books cost as much as the self-help books for adults. 10 to 20 USD apiece, on average.

“Why do you need so many? Pretty sure those stories already have their iterations on YouTube.”

Maybe. But I’d still pick the physical books.

Books are worth the investment.

In case you haven’t heard the cliché: A book is a portal,
A book is a teacher.
A book doesn’t just tell you something,

It transforms your child.
Quietly, privately, one page at a time.

You don’t always notice it happening.

But the version of your child who closes the book is never the same as the one who opened it.

Return on imagination (ROI)

"Wow, that’s a massive Duplo collection.
Why would you spend over 3,000 USD on Legos?”

Fair question.

For some, they’re just colorful blocks.

Overpriced plastic that ends up scattered on the floor.
To us, they’re building tools for imagination.

Every brick my child stacks teaches something.

Focus. Patience. Creativity.

How to dream. How to fail.
And how to rebuild when things fall apart.

I’ve seen my kid build towers taller than those litle arms can reach.
Laugh when it crashes, then rebuild.
Faster, better, stronger.

That’s not just play. That’s practice.
For life, for resilience, for creation.

Someday, those same hands will build something far greater.
Not out of plastic, but out of passion and purpose.

That’s the real ROI.

Paycheck I didn't expect

Was with my child at a toy store, looking for Tomicas to add to our garage.

Someone who looked to be in his late twenties approached me.
“Excuse me, Sir, did you happen to teach college back in the 2010s?”

“Oh yes,” I said.

His eyes lit up. “Sir! Long time no see!”

He told me he’s now working in a big company. Stable job, good life. He said I was one of the few teachers who made him believe he could actually make it.

That moment stopped me.

Wow. Guess I did touch someone else’s life, after all.

Sometimes, life gives you moments like that.

Reminders that your effort, though buried in attendance sheets and old lectures, quietly took root somewhere.

The salary may not build wealth, but the stories you build will outlive you.

You don’t always see the fruit of your work right away.

But when it does come back, it often finds you when you least expect it.

Maybe while you’re buying that Tomica for yourself, I mean, your child.

Our first flight as three

Me and my wife have always been travel buddies.

We started flying around the country together in 2010 and outside the country in 2011.

We have been around Asia, Australia, Europe, the United Kingdom, and the United States of America.

Back then, travel was muscle memory.

We had the momentum.

Ten-year multiple entry visas stamped confidently on our passports.

Strong legs built for long walks that started early in the morning and ended with sore feet and quiet satisfaction.

A wardrobe filled with trench coats and windbreakers, each one tied to a season, a city, a version of ourselves.

Airports felt like extensions of home.

Flights were something to look forward to, not manage.

Then the pandemic struck.

Borders closed. Planes disappeared.

And what we had was just walking tour videos of New York, Paris, Tokyo on YouTube.

Muted volumes. Paused screens.

Watching other people move while we stayed still.

Fast forward to today, we are ready again to fly.

Outside the country.

With my child.

For the first time.

And it hits different.

From two luggages to three.

From handsfree to gripping on a cabin-lite stroller.

From signature bags to a big child care hand carry.

From being excited to ride the plane

to worrying how the flight will turn out for the child.

I still feel the familiar thrill when I see the aircraft at the gate.

But it is quieter now, layered with something heavier.

I wonder if the cabin pressure will bother small ears.

If turbulence will scare him.

If sleep will come easily or not at all.

I realize that travel is no longer about how far we can go or how much we can see.

It is about how safe he feels.

How calm we remain.

How we carry not just luggage, but responsibility.

This first flight is not about destinations or visas or memories we will post later.

It is about watching a child look out the window at the clouds for the first time.

About holding a small hand during takeoff.

About silently hoping that this world we once explored so freely will be kind to our child.

We used to travel to feel alive.

Now, we travel to introduce life to the world.

And maybe that is the real upgrade.

Play where it lands

It started with a gift.

A golf club set personally handed to me by the President of our company.

He said, “You’ll learn a lot out there.”

I thought he meant about golf. He meant people.

Because golf reveals things the boardroom hides.

 In meetings, everyone’s polite. Strategic. Quoting Simon Sinek like it’s a religion.

But on the golf course? You’ll see who really practices “emotional intelligence” and who’s one slice away from throwing their driver into the lake.

Some people blame the wind.
Others blame the grass.
One guy blamed the sun.
Even gravity. 

Then there are the calm ones.

Golf’s funny like that.

It silences the loud, humbles the know-it-all, exposes the fake calm, and rewards those who can laugh at their own bad swing.

The fairway doesn’t care about your title or your KPIs. It only cares if you can recover.

Maybe that’s why the President gave me that set.
Not as a gift, but as a test.

Because in golf, like in life, everyone looks good at tee-off.

Character shows up on the second shot. When the ball didn’t go where you planned.

Never trust a guy who blames gravity.