This morning, Hamer woke up early and ran into our bed, telling me she wanted me to buy her something, though she couldn’t quite articulate what it was. She only mentioned that “it’s blue.” I had a hunch—it might be the exercise book “5·3 Daily Practice” that her teacher had mentioned.
Since she woke up early, Hamer managed to get herself ready almost entirely on her own. Just before we left, we realized she had forgotten to put on her school uniform. After a quick change, we finally headed out for school.
During the day, I was deeply immersed in work. I completed the design of another table in the morning and then started optimizing the control panel’s interface and functionality based on the new design. The entire day flew by in what felt like the blink of an eye.
In the evening, after submitting a pull request, I rushed to Olympic Park to pick up the gear for tomorrow’s parent-child run. I initially planned to take Hamer along and meet up with Xiaoyan afterward. I called Hamer to see if she wanted to join me, but she was happily playing at home with a classmate. After some hesitation, she decided to stay and continue playing.
Riding my electric scooter quickly to the park, I noticed the weather was cold and gloomy. I thought it was probably better that Hamer didn’t come—she might have caught a chill. After picking up the gear, the staff informed me that due to severe smog, the run was postponed to Sunday afternoon. I felt relieved, as it gave us more time, though it did mean we’d have to cancel our planned trip to the Fragrant Hill Park.
Just as I was about to head back, Hamer called, crying over the phone. Through her sobs, she told me she regretted not coming with me to pick up the gear. After a few questions, I learned that she had had a fight with her classmate, who then went home. On top of that, she had been feeling a bit regretful about not joining me, and now everything came crashing down on her. On the call, she cried and expressed her remorse and frustration.
I felt a pang of guilt but saw this as a teaching moment. I gently explained to her that once we make a choice, we have to deal with the consequences. I told her to think things through more carefully next time and not just focus on the immediate situation. I even used a metaphor: once you choose a path at a fork in the road, you miss out on the other. But Hamer quickly countered, “But we can always turn back, can’t we?” I was momentarily speechless—she had a point.
We talked for about twenty minutes, during which her sobbing gradually subsided, and she started to calm down. But her last words hit me deeply: “Can’t you just come back and comfort me?” She was right—she was hurting, and instead of comforting her, I had focused on pointing out her choices. I felt a wave of guilt.
When I got home, I apologized to Hamer and gave her a big hug. We tried on the running gear together and even put up some glow-in-the-dark stickers. After dinner, Xiaoyan suggested I finish my remaining work on Saturday, but I couldn’t shake off the unfinished tasks. I decided to head back to the office later in the evening to wrap things up so I could fully relax tomorrow.
When I got back to the office, I found two colleagues also working late. After chatting for a bit, I discovered that one of them had already taken care of the tasks I was planning to do. We then collaborated on refining some details and recorded a demo video. By the time we wrapped up, it was 1:30 a.m.
