Last week, during a calm and cozy evening, I played a little game with Miss J., who is currently 6 years and 9 months old and full of opinions, wisdom, and a dash of sass. The game? Q&A: Ask Me Anything Edition.
Last week, during a calm and cozy evening, I played a little game with Miss J., who is currently 6 years and 9 months old and full of opinions, wisdom, and a dash of sass. The game? Q&A: Ask Me Anything Edition.
You know, I dream. A lot. Possibly too much. I daydream with my eyes wide open, and obviously, I night-dream with my eyes tightly shut.
The daytime dreams don’t scare me. They’re curated, intentional, like Pinterest boards of my future life. I want something—anything—and my mind launches into full cinematic production: scenarios, possibilities, entire dialogues. I even mentally draft a five-phase plan to bring the madness to life.
But the night dreams? That’s where things get… unpredictable. Read more
It was a quiet morning stroll through Dordrecht when we wandered into the Grote Kerk, which translates, rather humbly, as the Big Church. Its full name is De Grote of Onze-Lieve-Vrouwekerk, a majestic Gothic structure, not unlike the Black Church in Brașov, and about the same age too. Inside, the atmosphere was serene, almost sacred, wrapping around us like a warm hush.
We found a bench and sat down, the kind of sit-down where you’re not really tired, but your thoughts are. Sitting beside me was Miss J., unusually still and solemn. Yes, my whirlwind of a daughter—eternally full of questions—was suddenly peaceful. I looked at her sideways, amused and slightly suspicious of the calm. She glanced up at me with her curious, always-seeking eyes and whispered:
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Hello from Cloud Zero 7 — My Personal Escape Plan
Sometimes I wish I had Arabela’s magical ring—you know, the one from that wonderfully strange Czech TV show from our childhood? Arabela, with the Majer family, the dashing prince, and of course, the eternally meddling Rumburak. That ring could conjure up anything. One twist, and poof—your wildest dreams, reality.
If I had that ring now, I wouldn’t ask for diamonds or castles or eternal youth. I’d simply ask for… a cloud.
Not just any cloud—a sparkling, fluffy, milky-white one. A little puff of sky stitched from cashmere and sunlight, floating just above the noise. I’d call it Cloud Zero 7. My personal sky sanctuary.
What Does Love Mean?
A group of professional people posed this question to a group of 4 to 8 year-olds, “What does love mean?” The answers they got were broader and deeper than anyone could have imagined. See what you think:
“When my grandmother got arthritis, she couldn’t bend over and paint her toenails anymore. So my grandfather does it for her all even when his hands got arthritis, too. That’s Love.” Rebecca – age 8
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Thursday, 7 PM. Pajamas on, teeth brushed (more or less), and it’s that sacred time of day: bedtime. The moment when little feet finally settle, eyes get heavy… and suddenly, a journalistic fire ignites in the heart of a 5-year-old.
Tonight, I was under a very serious investigation—courtesy of Miss J., my daughter, age 5 years and 8 months, full-time truth-seeker and part-time philosopher.