On Monday morning, Hamer climbed into our bed early to keep sleeping. Both she and Xiaoyan were too tired to get up since yesterday had been exhausting. It was pretty cold when we left home, and Hamer mentioned that she’d wear her fleece-lined school uniform from now on.

While waiting at home before work, I happened to hear a song by The Carpenters. Xiaoyan said to me, “I taught you how to sing this song, remember?” She asked if I could still recall it. I replied, “Of course I do—it was at the track.” Xiaoyan was really surprised, thinking I wouldn’t remember that detail, and she was delighted. She taught me this song line by line when we were still in school, during one of our first walks on the track after we started dating.

I got to work a bit late today, and after a morning meeting, I didn’t get much done until the afternoon when I finally made some progress.

Later, during a chat with Hamer, she said the happiest part of her day was going to school. That was a big surprise but also made me really happy. School used to be something she dreaded and avoided. I asked her what made her most nervous, and her answer was also school—she still feels tense in class, but it seems she’s getting used to it.

Today was Sprint day, and in the morning, the team reviewed the list of issues needing resolution—most of which came from the external testing team. Though the list was quite long, it felt manageable. My main focus was on handling the mutual exclusivity between G and other functionalities.

As the workday was ending, I started tackling a S123 issue. While discussing with the PE, I realized that a logic error had been made. By 11 p.m., I thought I was close to untangling the issue, but the more I looked into it, the more complex it became. I knew I wouldn’t be able to solve it tonight. I let my colleague go home and decided to stay back and continue working on it until around 1:30 a.m., trying to get as far as I could before calling it a day.

I got home after 10 p.m. tonight, feeling quite satisfied. Most of the G features are complete, and the device connection issues, which had worried me, were mostly resolved thanks to a colleague’s help.

Throughout the morning, my biggest headache was the S123 reading and editing permissions issue. I kept experimenting with my idea of using the REST API to check edit permissions. By 10:30 a.m., I finally got the update and delete logic working, and took a break to relax. Later, I ran into another issue when editing geometry. Adding different layers created permission management problems, which made me anxious. I discussed it with the S123 team and kept thinking about it through lunch. By the afternoon, I managed to solve it, then quickly moved on to address the UI problems I had missed earlier, and finished off the G recording and data display. Without noticing, it was already night, and I worked until 10 p.m.

When I got home, Xiaoyan and Hamer were finishing a dance workout. Around 11 p.m., they went to get ready for bed, while I scrolled my phone aimlessly until I finally went to sleep at 1 a.m.

This morning, I looked for places near home where we could exercise and found some community centers and soccer fields. We got up late and rode to brunch, enjoying bagels, pasta, and fries. During brunch, I saw an open tennis court for the evening and booked it. Afterward, we picked up a tennis racket for Hamer, and she went to her dance class.

While she danced, I explored a nearby community center. The basement gym felt eerie, but once I got familiar with the place, it was better. I ended up in the library and read Scarcity Brain until it was time to get Hamer, who was eager to check out the gym.

Afterward, Hamer did some homework, knowing we planned to hike tomorrow and play tennis later. We struggled a bit with tennis, using an automatic launcher, but Hamer enjoyed using cones to catch the balls. Compared to badminton, tennis felt more challenging, and I considered getting a coach eventually.

After tennis, we went out for dinner, and when we got home, Hamer finished more homework. She then did a dance workout with Xiaoyan while I, exhausted, went to bed early.

Last night, I dreamt about Mr. Zheng. He invited me to join him for dinner.

This morning, as we were heading out, Hamer asked, “Are we late?” It was already 7:45, and she was worried about being scolded by her teacher. She also asked about not eating lunch at school anymore. At the gate, she started crying, saying she didn’t want to arrive that late again.

At lunch, I went out for some testing, taking a walk around the office building. I found several issues and potential improvements. In the afternoon, I revised my work and did more testing on the way home, uncovering even more problems. Testing always seems to reveal something new.

I woke up around 5 a.m., eager to solve the device connection monitoring issue. After searching, I found a useful reference in an old sample, which got me excited to try it out. This issue had been on my mind since my testing yesterday showed I couldn’t properly handle device connections, making the G feature frustrating.

Once at work, instead of diving into the issue, I focused on drafting my 1-on-1 notes for an afternoon meeting with my boss. I ended up writing too much detail, even though I knew it would have been better to just list key points. This slowed me down and kept me locked into a rigid structure. The meeting didn’t go well—I felt like my explanations fell flat. Luckily, my boss was patient and provided feedback, mainly on AI, people, overtime, and leadership.

Afterward, I returned to device management but kept running into issues. Debugging became impossible as the app wouldn’t start, citing a .NET version problem. Despite troubleshooting until the end of the day, I couldn’t solve it. Later, I picked up Hamer, met Xiaoyan at the mall, and treated ourselves to a nice dinner out.

This morning, I took Hamer to try out our new tennis rebound trainer. We changed plans to go to a spacious park near her old kindergarten instead. After warming up with badminton, we started practicing tennis, but the rebound ball was too heavy for her. Switching to a softer ball, Hamer struggled at first to dribble or bounce it. So we decided to use our hands and worked on getting comfortable with the ball and racket, eventually managing to make it fun. By the end, Hamer could bounce the ball five or six times!

On the way back, we ran into Xiaoyan, who was heading out for a facial. Hamer couldn’t decide whether to join her, even as we got home, which made me impatient. She ended up crying, and we called Xiaoyan to pick her up.

Back at home, I got engrossed in the Korean drama “18 Again,” watching until they returned for lunch. In the afternoon, I took Hamer to her dance class, where she handled everything herself—changing clothes and packing up afterward. Later, Xiaoyan and Hamer went out for dinner with a coworker leaving Beijing, while I stayed home, watching the Korean drama.

Our family finally went on a hike today, choosing Baiwang Mountain over the Fragrant Hills, where Hamer and me had gone the previous week. We left around 9 a.m., taking the subway. The hike began with a quick ascent to the top before noon, leaving me initially disappointed by the lack of challenge. However, the day grew more interesting as we descended the northern slope.

There were lots of fun moments: Hamer and Xiaoyan held hands down long stairs, the three of us ran around like kids in an open field, and Hamer attempted a steep slope but got scared midway. We also visited a small pond where Xiaoyan reluctantly fed fish with dropped bread and explored a canyon full of gravel. We even stumbled across a group filming a cheesy but amusing skit.

After the hike, we ate a meal, where I surprisingly ended up eating the most despite snacking all day. Exhausted, we took a cab home, and everyone dozed off. Hamer completed her homework and went to bed, while I lounged on the couch, watching “18 Again” until I fell asleep, eventually deciding to stay there for the night.

This morning, Hamer woke up early, climbed into my bed, and asked if she could start getting ready. I encouraged her to decide, and she got ready efficiently, finishing by 7:20. We enjoyed a beautiful sunrise on our way to school, arriving at 7:25, likely the earliest.

After dropping her off, I practiced English, focusing on connected speech. During my commute, I listened to Circle Around’s A World of Music podcast, which lifted my mood, and I even joined in making sounds along with the music.

Work was focused on the G feature playback. In the morning, I worked on reflecting recorded data accurately, and in the afternoon, tackled pause issues. We devised two solutions, including a simplified version of my initial idea, but by 9 PM, I still had unresolved issues and decided to continue next week.

At home, Hamer was calm and relaxed. She had experimented with flour and makeup, washed dishes, and used the gas stove. We trimmed her nails, shared a snack, and read until she fell asleep.

Xiaoyan has had early flights for three days in a row and will be back tomorrow. I hope she can rest well.

Xiaoyan woke up early, and I went back to sleep, not getting up until Siri reminded me at 7 AM. Xiaoyan had already left by then.

Hamer woke up later, worried about being late for school, but after a quick time check, she felt reassured and we arrived at 7:39.

After dropping Hamer off, I read a chapter of Positive Discipline and practiced English. Over breakfast, I listened to All Songs Considered’s Thanksgiving special, which set a warm mood all the way to work.

At home, I treated myself to a chicken leg as a Thanksgiving treat. Hamer had already eaten out with Grandma, so I made instant noodles and helped her with her homework.

I spent the day optimizing the G feature, addressing small issues with icons, crashes, and unit tests. A colleague and I resolved a serious playback issue and agreed to fix it before the final RC.

During lunch, I did a five-part workout: dumbbell incline press, incline curls, RFESS, pull-ups, and crunches with leg raises. I felt exhausted but refreshed afterward, ready for the afternoon.

In the morning, Hamer got ready mostly on her own, and we arrived at school before the gates opened. Her independence filled me with pride.

After breakfast, I resumed my English practice. On the way to work, I listened to two podcasts: one on parents' emotions affecting kids, and another about a girl practicing violin, reminding me of Xiaoyan’s wish to learn it.

At work, I addressed issues with the G feature, adding a DispatcherTimer for smoother transitions and adjusting path recording. The results were good, but my time management needs work.

I got home late, and Hamer called about our shopping plans. She and Grandma argued about her riding her bike. I encouraged her to work it out, but she wanted me to help. When she saw Xiaoyan, she burst into tears, but was soon comforted.

On the way to Hema, Hamer was upset about not riding her bike, but Xiaoyan suggested a shared bike, which cheered her up. We took turns holding it steady as she pedaled.

At Hema, we stuck to our shopping rules: no chips and staying under 150 yuan. We ended up at 151 yuan, a small “splurge”, and went home happy.

Beijing has been freezing lately. Riding my scooter felt like the wind was slashing at my face. After badminton, the cold cut straight to the bone. I considered buying a helmet but couldn’t decide between a scooter helmet or a motorcycle one, so I chose to sleep on it. That night, the first snow of the season quietly fell over Beijing.

Work focused on code review and addressing feedback. The PM flagged some serious issues with a detailed video showing real-world scenarios. I spent the day reproducing and resolving the problems. Although time-consuming, the process was rewarding.

In the morning, Xiaoyan took Hamer to school—we’ve been alternating this task these two weeks. After getting up, I made breakfast, tidied up, and read a few pages of a book. Xiaoyan teased me, “Pretending to be literary?” We laughed as she did her makeup. When she heard a Korean song playing, she said, “We should visit Korea since you’re so into K-culture!” Later, she noticed Hamer’s dirty socks still lying on the mat. I had picked them up earlier but absent-mindedly put them back down. She stared at them, wide-eyed, then burst into laughter, saying, “So it’s true—when people are speechless, they really do laugh!”

At noon, I read Positive Discipline and reflected on its sections about “natural consequences” and “logical consequences.” It explained the value of letting children experience the outcomes of their actions or collaboratively developing solutions instead of using punishment. This gave me new insight into how I could guide Hamer more effectively. I had planned to read this section with her, but we both ended up busy.

This morning, Hamer snuggled into bed, and I enjoyed the peaceful warmth. After dropping her off, I felt calm, a feeling that lingered from finishing my journal last night.

Reflecting on how to guide Hamer, I picked up Positive Discipline. Xiaoyan and I had discussed her unkind behavior toward friends. I considered punishment but felt uneasy, so I decided on a positive conversation instead.

That evening, we talked. I shared my thoughts, and she listened. We agreed on key ideas: respect others, take space when needed, and repair relationships with actions like a note or hug. Afterwards, Hamer eagerly wrote an apology letter, decorated it, and seemed at ease.

Work was light today. I addressed feedback on the G feature and summarized key points on System.IO.Pipelines. Xiaoyan took the day off and picked up Hamer. I also decided to keep my journal concise for privacy and sustainability.

I woke up relatively early this morning, and Hamer and I headed to the small square, full of excitement to continue our training. The weather was noticeably cooler than yesterday, but our enthusiasm remained undiminished. We started with agility ladder drills, ran two laps, and played badminton for a while. Just then, Hamer’s classmate arrived. My original plan was to replicate yesterday’s activities: practicing the agility ladder, then playing tennis, and finishing with the ring toss game. However, Hamer seemed to lose interest in the agility ladder. She felt she had practiced enough and didn’t want to continue.

I insisted on sticking to the plan and tried to persuade her to join. At first, she resisted; then, she ignored me entirely, focusing instead on setting up the props for the ring toss game. While I was practicing with her classmate, I noticed Hamer arranging the materials for the ring toss. Deliberately, I told her, “Even if you get it ready, we’re not going to play it right now.” Hamer probably felt ignored, and her frustration boiled over—she burst into tears out of anger. My patience wasn’t great either. Instead of comforting her, I criticized her behavior. Hamer, now even angrier, directed her frustration at her classmate, saying some hurtful things. What had started as a cheerful morning ended in an unpleasant fallout. Frustrated, we hastily packed up and went home.

On the way back, I felt sorry for Hamer’s classmate and saddened by the conflict. Deep down, I realized the situation wasn’t entirely her fault; I bore some responsibility too. I had approached the activity as a structured training session, trying to recreate yesterday’s joy, while Hamer saw it as playtime. By forcing my plan on her, I had ignored her feelings.

When we got home, Xiaoyan was awake, and Hamer ran to her, tearfully recounting what had happened. This led to a family discussion. While we emphasized that it was wrong for Hamer to say hurtful things to her friend, I also admitted my fault in not planning the activity well or communicating my ideas with her beforehand.

After emotions had settled, Hamer turned to drawing. She made a card expressing her love for her mom and, close to noon, handed me a small piece of paper with a mini apology letter written on it. Reading her letter, I felt touched and reflective. I realized I had been too eager to replicate yesterday’s happiness and had unintentionally ruined the moment. Life often works that way—when we try too hard to force joy, we lose its essence. Sometimes, letting things unfold naturally yields better results.

For lunch, I planned to reheat the braised noodles with green beans from the night before but accidentally turned the heat too high, burning them. With the noodles ruined, Xiaoyan stepped in to save the day by quickly whipping up plain noodles. Hamer and I tried to help, but we only managed to create more chaos. Surprisingly, Xiaoyan’s noodles turned out delicious, and both Hamer and I devoured two big bowls. Grandma, however, found them a bit bland and ate only a small portion.

In the afternoon, our family visited the Beijing Science Center’s Children’s Playground for the first time. Hamer was thrilled and quickly captivated by the science-themed toys and exhibits. The center was enormous, with the children’s area spanning three floors. It was well-designed, catering to children’s interests while introducing scientific concepts in fun and interactive ways. We marveled at the place, remarking, “With a free facility like this, who needs amusement parks?” We stayed from 1:30 until the center closed at 4:20, leaving reluctantly. On the way home, Hamer kept saying how much she wanted to come back.

During the ride back, we debated whether to eat out or dine at home and eventually decided on Domino’s Pizza. After dinner, we returned home relatively early. After washing up, Hamer climbed into bed and fell asleep quickly, looking content and happy. We tidied up a bit and went to bed early as well, wrapping up an eventful yet fulfilling day.

When I woke up this morning, I felt refreshed and energized—it had been an especially good night’s sleep. Around 8:30, I started packing up to take Hamer to meet her classmate for some exercise. Hamer was particularly excited about the agility ladder and rings that had arrived just the day before. She’d seen others playing with them and thought they looked like a lot of fun.

When we got to the venue, we began by following video tutorials to learn footwork drills using the agility ladder. Hamer and her classmate jumped around, laughing and having a blast. Afterward, we switched to playing badminton. Hamer struggled to hit the shuttlecock and became a bit frustrated, so she set down her racket and grabbed a tennis ball instead. We decided to toss the ball to each other, trying to keep it from touching the ground. Our initial goal was 10 passes, but it proved so difficult that we lowered it to 5. When we finally achieved it, we all cheered.

Next, we experimented with catching the ball using rackets and played agility ring games, like throwing a ring and jumping to it. We took turns twice, then tried forward, backward, and side jumps. Anyone who made a mistake had to run a lap as a penalty. I ended up running twice, which had Hamer and her classmate laughing uncontrollably.

While running, I suggested a relay race, and they were thrilled. We ran three laps around the field, working well together. Despite being sweaty and exhausted, the laughter never stopped. The final game was their favorite—ring toss. Using leaves as “money” to buy rings, the two kids had a blast, laughing and jumping around. Before we knew it, it was noon, and we packed up to head home. On the way, Hamer jokingly pretended to cry, saying, “I don’t want to leave my classmate!”

After lunch, we relaxed in the living room for a while. Seeing it was nearly time for dance practice, Hamer and I began to get ready. Before leaving, I told her, “While you’re dancing, I’ll write in my journal, okay?” She found the idea novel and agreed. At the dance studio, I dropped her off and went to a nearby community study room to write. As I typed, memories of the joyful morning filled my mind, and an hour and a half flew by.

After picking up Hamer, we stopped to buy some cake. On the way, she suddenly asked, “What’s a journal?” After I explained, she said, “I want to write one too!” We agreed that next Saturday, after dance practice, we’d bring our supplies to the study room and write journals together.

When we got home, Xiaoyan was napping, so I helped Hamer with her homework. There wasn’t much to do, so she finished quickly, eating a few small cakes in the process and even taking some with her when we went out again. She wanted to join me at the hair salon, so we went together. Along the way, she chattered excitedly, saying, “I love playing with my classmate’s dad; he’s so much fun!” At the salon, I got a haircut while she had her hair washed, thoroughly enjoying the experience.

On our way back, we hurried to buy groceries. My task for the evening was to make braised noodles with green beans since I’d lost a bet with Xiaoyan over who would cook dinner on Saturday. The green beans cost 10 yuan, and the noodles 5 yuan. When Hamer heard the total price, she laughed and said, “So cheap!” I took the opportunity to explain, “That’s one of the benefits of eating at home.”

At home, Hamer spent a long time chatting on the phone with her classmate while I got busy in the kitchen. Xiaoyan stood nearby with chestnuts, occasionally feeding me bites as I worked. It had been a while since I last cooked, so I carefully followed the recipe step by step, washing, chopping, and cooking the ingredients. Though busy, I found it enjoyable. When Hamer finished her call, she came into the kitchen wanting to help, but by then I was nearly done. She stayed anyway, pretending to arrange dishes and playing the role of a restaurant server.

After an hour, the braised noodles were finally ready. Both Xiaoyan and Hamer loved them, showering me with compliments. That long-lost sense of accomplishment filled me with satisfaction.

In the evening, we lounged on cushions and the sofa in the living room, watching Klaus together while relaxing. During this time, Hamer wrote her Christmas wish list for Santa, ready for him to “collect” it. It wasn’t until 10:30 that we slowly got up to wash up and end the day.

This morning, I placed a phone playing a pinyin song beside Hamer’s pillow before leaving the room. After a while, I returned to wake her, and she slowly got up. Just as she was heading to the bathroom, she suddenly mentioned her nose was bleeding. I quickly helped her pinch her nose to stop the bleeding and assisted her to the bathroom, thinking it might have been caused by the dry overnight air. Later, I noticed her nails were quite long—perhaps she had scratched her nose and ruptured a blood vessel. I silently reminded myself to trim her nails in the evening.

While washing up and getting dressed, Hamer was extra cautious, worried her nose might not have fully stopped bleeding. She was even afraid to blow her nose when she saw mucus. Before we left, she grew anxious again, concerned there might still be traces of blood her classmates would notice. Her mood dipped, and her attitude while packing wasn’t great. We left about five minutes later than usual. She seemed bothered by the delay, but I reassured her, saying, “Today’s a special situation; it’s okay. The teacher will understand.”

After dropping her off at school, I felt unsettled on the way home, reflecting on the chaotic morning. Back at home, as I prepared breakfast and coffee, my frustration showed on my face. Once I finished, I sat down to write in my journal. As the words flowed, my mood gradually eased. Later, while getting ready for work, I noticed Xiaoyan’s expression seemed off. When I asked her what was wrong, she snapped, “So it’s okay for you to have a bad attitude, but no one else can?” I wanted to argue but decided to stay quiet.

The morning was spent addressing the spacing record issue I had discovered the night before. Despite revising it several times, there were still gaps. Thankfully, a colleague caught the problem during the Pull Request review and pointed it out; otherwise, it could have caused major issues. In the afternoon, we went out for field testing, and this time, everything went smoothly. Our first Release Candidate (RC) version was completed on schedule, marking a satisfying milestone.

Around lunchtime, on a whim, I decided to hit the gym. First, I had enough time, and second, I worried that if new issues popped up later in the day, I might miss the chance again. I packed my bag and headed out, feeling unusually cheerful. At the gym, I started with some cardio before moving on to strength training. While there, I bumped into a colleague doing heavy deadlifts. Feeling inspired, I decided to try it myself. She cautioned me, “Your back just recovered; it’s better to avoid this exercise.” Ignoring her advice, I went ahead. The weight was heavy, and after just three lifts, my lower back started to feel uncomfortable. I immediately stopped and switched to bench presses, squats, hip thrusts, and a few new machines. By the end, my arms were sore, but most of my body felt fine—except for my back, which was noticeably strained.

Close to the end of the workday, I thought I’d get home early. I called Xiaoyan and suggested we go out for Hunan noodles together. I also called Hamer and invited her along. Picking her up on my electric scooter, we met Xiaoyan near the noodle shop. By then, my lower back pain had worsened. After finishing our meal, we headed home as the night grew colder. Hamer fell asleep on the scooter, exhausted from the day. On the chilly winter night, the three of us rode home together. Xiaoyan teased me, saying, “You’re just looking for hardship—why didn’t you take the subway instead?” But as I glanced up at the sky, my mood unexpectedly lifted. The night was clear and bright, scattered with clouds, and a single shining star hung in the sky, as if guiding our way. In that moment, everything felt just fine.

Back home, Hamer stayed asleep, skipping her bedtime routine before climbing into bed. I lay flat on the floor to ease my back and ended up chatting with a colleague about ideas from our recent 1-on-1 session.

Today, I experienced “Murphy’s Law” firsthand: anything that can go wrong will go wrong, and if you’re worried about something happening, it’s even more likely. Recently, I moved a “sample interval” task on my Kanban to-do list directly into “done” without properly addressing it. As a result, during this afternoon’s testing, the related issue was uncovered—a mistake born of negligence that taught me a harsh lesson.

The day started off relatively smoothly. In the morning, we had a fairly short sprint meeting, and afterward, I continued working on the debugging issue in Visual Studio that I had left unresolved yesterday. Due to .NET version incompatibility, the debugging functionality wasn’t working properly, which had been bothering me all day. Fortunately, I managed to resolve it before noon. However, because I hadn’t controlled the variables well during testing, I’m still unsure which solution actually worked. I wasn’t willing to risk starting over to test again—time is just too precious, and the process too frustrating.

By noon, I had installed some VS plugins and even explored how to batch-install them via the command line. When I checked the time, it was already 1:30 PM, so I quickly grabbed lunch. In the afternoon, I focused on optimizing the device connection logic and made significant changes. Just as I was fully immersed in work, a colleague discovered a critical issue during testing—the very one tied to Murphy’s Law that I mentioned earlier. The overlooked details had finally caught up with me. The problem surfaced at the worst possible time, which was a bit demoralizing. I then spent most of the afternoon troubleshooting, reproducing, and fixing the issue. By the time I finished, it was already past 8 PM, and my planned gym session had to be canceled. On the way home, I did some on-site testing to verify if the problem was truly resolved, only to stumble upon another major issue. Although it was a bit of a headache, I felt somewhat relieved—it was caught early enough. After giving it some thought, I now have a rough idea of how to address it and plan to tackle it tomorrow at work.

In the evening, Xiaoyan supervised Hamer while she did her homework. Toward the later part, Hamer’s focus completely broke down—she was jumping around with Xiaoyan doing exercises, cutting small pieces of paper, and then fiddling with the mini textbooks I had brought back for her. When she only had one page of homework left, Hamer, after washing up, simply declared, “I’m not doing it anymore,” and packed up to go to bed.

Before bed, Xiaoyan and I chatted about some of the troubles she’s been having with her friends. Lately, she’s been receiving a lot of negative energy, which has left her feeling a bit overwhelmed. I listened quietly. Although I couldn’t offer much help, I hoped she felt a bit more at ease and would eventually find her own way to cope. Toward the end of the conversation, Xiaoyan suddenly brought up what happened last night—she asked what I was thinking when Hamer was walking ahead of us by herself. When I told her, “I was annoyed too,” she cut me off with, “Alright, stop talking.” She could sense that what I was about to say wasn’t what she wanted to hear. Even so, we continued the conversation. I explained my perspective and listened to hers. Although she was still a bit unhappy in the end, we managed to get everything out in the open, which was a good thing overall.

Last night, Xiaoyan had planned to continue taking Hamer to school, but by morning, she felt too tired and ultimately gave up on the idea. She decided not to go to work today, opting instead to take a day off and rest.

The morning’s work went relatively smoothly. I followed the Pomodoro rhythm to tackle tasks and maintained high efficiency. However, around noon, I impulsively upgraded Visual Studio, which led to a frustrating chain of issues. When I resumed work in the afternoon, I discovered a problem with the compiled version due to a .NET version mismatch, making debugging impossible. I tried the usual method of modifying global.json to specify the default version, but it didn’t work. Then, I installed a new SDK for VS, but that didn’t solve it either. I even reinstalled Visual Studio in an attempt to roll back to the previous version, but the issue persisted. The entire afternoon was consumed by this problem, and despite my efforts, it remained unresolved, leaving me feeling incredibly irritated.

In the meantime, I managed to complete some overdue cross-testing tasks, but that hardly made up for the time wasted on the debugging environment issues. Frustrated, I resorted to writing code on my personal computer and debugging on a test machine. Although this workflow was cumbersome, I managed to fix the remaining bugs before the end of the workday. As for the .NET problem, I had no choice but to leave it for tomorrow.

After work, I went to a café to meet Xiaoyan. She had been there in the afternoon having a meal with her colleagues. Later, we went to Hema, where Grandma and Hamer joined us. What was supposed to be a relaxed family shopping trip turned sour over a bag of chips.

Hamer wanted to buy chips, but Xiaoyan refused, worried about the health implications of eating too much junk food. This led to a back-and-forth argument between them. Xiaoyan began a lengthy lecture, starting with the health issues of chips, then moving on to our weekly shopping expenses, and even suggesting canceling next Wednesday’s shopping trip altogether. Hamer gradually lost patience, showing visible frustration and even a bit of anger. Standing on the sidelines, I couldn’t help but feel annoyed too. When Xiaoyan mentioned canceling next week’s trip, I felt it was an unreasonable remark. Since we’ve established Wednesday shopping as a regular family activity, why couldn’t we discuss and find a compromise? If we think some snacks are unhealthy or the expenses are exceeding our budget, we could set rules and adjust gradually. Flat-out rejecting someone’s choice of snack or casually proposing to cancel our routine entirely seemed unnecessary.

On the way home, Hamer walked far ahead of us, as if trying to avoid us. I also didn’t feel like making eye contact with Xiaoyan, and the atmosphere was somewhat awkward. However, as we neared home, Xiaoyan suddenly started running with Hamer, playing around, and eventually, the tension between them dissipated.

At home, Xiaoyan and I had dinner while Hamer quietly worked on her homework. After dinner, Xiaoyan did a dance workout. I watched some Korean drama before joining her, while Hamer remained focused on completing her assignments.

Today is a special day. In the morning, when the alarm went off, Xiaoyan opened her eyes. I nudged her and asked, “Are you taking Hamer to school today?” Last night before bed, she had mentioned wanting to try something different, but she hadn’t agreed to my suggestion at the time. This time, however, she got up. She woke Hamer, helped her freshen up, packed her schoolbag, and then took her to school. By 7:39, they were already at the school gate, much earlier than usual. When Xiaoyan returned home, she even made coffee for us, making the start of the day particularly warm.

Most of the daytime was spent debugging, mainly focusing on adjustments to the G feature while also quickly completing testing tasks for the mobile app. Since I didn’t use the Pomodoro timer, the work rhythm felt a bit chaotic, and it seemed like time wasn’t utilized efficiently—something I’ll need to improve on going forward.

In the evening, Hamer came home and proactively finished her homework. During a conversation, Hamer told Xiaoyan that she had been moved to the last row in class. Xiaoyan asked how she felt about it, and Hamer replied, “Not much.” Hearing this, I felt a bit anxious and initially blamed the teacher: why was she moved to the last row again? It seemed like such decisions lacked any clear rules. But on second thought, Hamer herself didn’t seem to connect this to other issues like she did last time, nor did she show any particular emotions. This helped ease my concerns a bit. I decided to observe her state first and refrain from intervening, allowing her to adapt and view the situation from her own perspective. I wondered: if we appeared overly concerned, would it make Hamer think sitting in the last row was a “bad” thing? She might even feel that sharing such small matters is burdensome, and might stop sharing them with us in the future.

Outside of today’s main plans, I spent a considerable amount of time on my blog. In the morning, I checked my email and found that the domain migration was complete. I used some time before work to configure the domain. Initially, I was a bit confused when setting up the domain records, especially with the fields “Hostname” and “Value” in the interface—they didn’t make much sense to me. However, after consulting some resources, I finally resolved the issue.

Before bed, I continued optimizing the blog, changing the theme to Alpine, which aligns better with my aesthetic preferences, and adding a few new pages. The overall framework of the blog is beginning to take shape and looks decent at first glance. Next, I plan to further optimize the pages by adding sections like TIL (Today I Learned), Journal, and Parenting, while also refining the About page. Lastly, and most importantly, I need to focus on creating more content.

This morning, Hamer woke up quite early. After asking Siri to stop her alarm, she ran over to the sofa where I was sleeping and curled up next to me for a while, mumbling sleepily, “I can’t get up.” Looking at her tired expression, I thought about how she hadn’t slept well last night. Before bed, she kept saying she “couldn’t fall asleep,” but as soon as she switched to our bed, she fell asleep almost instantly—probably exhausted from all the climbing and playing yesterday.

The morning felt long and filled with small, tedious tasks. I spent a good chunk of time updating code dependencies. Last Friday, before leaving work, I encountered an issue with the .NET environment that made compiling impossible, and I still hadn’t fully resolved it today. I need to set aside time to sort out these fundamental problems; leaving them unresolved is really dragging down productivity. While working on device management for the G feature, I initially planned a major overhaul to streamline the handling of device statuses. However, one issue after another kept cropping up. By 2 p.m., I still hadn’t made much progress, which left me feeling a bit frustrated.

For lunch, I went out and got a sandwich. As I ate, I reflected: maybe I should take things one step at a time. First, the current logic isn’t fully sorted out; second, making a big change at this stage feels a bit risky. So, I shifted my focus to handling device removal. Although the progress was limited, it gave me a small sense of stability.

I headed home a little earlier than usual in the evening and found Hamer lying on the floor doing her homework. After she read out a list of words from her teacher, we went out together to pick up Xiaoyan. After dinner, Hamer continued working on her assignments. I stayed with her and helped guide her through the remaining tasks. By the time we were done, I felt like my day was complete and wasn’t motivated to do much else. I idly scrolled through my phone, watched a bit of TV, washed the dinner dishes, and replaced the filter in the water purifier. After wrapping up these small chores, I was pretty tired myself and headed to bed early for some rest.

I woke up before 6 a.m. today. Though I couldn’t fall back asleep, I didn’t get up right away. Instead, I stayed in bed scrolling through my phone and came across a thought-provoking comment on Zhihu about “removing primary school-level education from kindergarten.” One part of the comment really struck me:

“Hiring graduates from prestigious universities like 985 and 211 schools doesn’t even require offering a high salary or using manipulative motivation tactics; just pile the work on them. The dedication to progress, sense of responsibility, and meritocratic values instilled by the education system will naturally push them to invest time and get things done—working overtime if necessary. They can’t help themselves.”

This sentiment captured exactly how I’ve been feeling lately. Last night, after playing badminton, I gave a colleague a ride on my e-bike, and he remarked, “I’m barely into my job here, and I’ve already seen such intense overtime.” I couldn’t help but wonder: if I don’t throw myself completely into this, how should I approach situations like this?

After I got up, Hamer also got up on her own, washed up, and got dressed. She was moving slowly, but today I didn’t urge her on. When we were leaving, she insisted on bringing an umbrella. We searched for a while but couldn’t find the one she wanted. I handed her an umbrella that she had decorated herself before, but she didn’t want to risk getting it wet. In the end, we decided not to use an umbrella and rode the e-bike through the drizzle.

The light rain continued throughout the day, and when I got home in the evening, it was still falling, which disrupted our plans to play badminton. Hamei was a little disappointed, so instead, I played with her at home for a while. Looking over her school log, I noticed she didn’t have too many tasks. But when it came time to review math, she was visibly reluctant and seemed irritable, though I couldn’t figure out exactly why.

As it was almost time to go shopping, I told her to get changed. Unexpectedly, she kept changing her clothes several times until she was satisfied. Then, while looking for her socks, she couldn’t find the pair she’d just taken off, which made her frustrated. Watching her impatiently search from the doorway, I asked, “Is there another way? Maybe you could check one item at a time, or put on a different pair, or even go without socks?” But she stubbornly insisted on finding the exact pair she’d taken off and wouldn’t look on her own; she grew increasingly upset and started crying.

I didn’t help her and stood by, feeling a bit annoyed myself. Then she got angry at me, picked up her grandma’s phone, and called Xiaoyan to complain, telling her she didn’t want to go to Hema with me. Xiaoyan patiently comforted her and suggested she could walk there by herself with an umbrella. Hamer immediately brightened up at this idea. After finding her socks with grandma’s help, she picked up the umbrella and dashed out the door without a backward glance.

On the way, she walked along the sidewalk while I rode my e-bike in the adjacent bike lane. At one point, she even jogged alongside me with a slight look of determination on her face. Watching her run like that made me feel a mix of amusement and relief. When we arrived at Hema, her mood had mostly settled. Though she still mentioned being “mad” at me, it was clear she was feeling much better.

Back at home, Xiaoyan and I ate dinner while Hamer practiced her eye exercises, and then she reviewed her math lessons.

The workload today was relatively light; most of it involved following up on recent changes to the RT module and compiling a list of technical points worth studying in depth. I spent quite a bit of the afternoon troubleshooting an issue with S123 authentication. I couldn’t make any headway until a colleague informed me that the version I was using didn’t yet include the necessary hotfix.

In the evening, I didn’t do anything particularly noteworthy. I applied for an Apple account for Hamer, removed a few categories from my blog only to realize that some articles were no longer visible as a result, and followed up on some questions regarding domain migration. There wasn’t much that felt especially fulfilling, and by the time it reached past eleven, I ended the day feeling a bit unsatisfied.

In the morning, Hamer was moving a bit slowly. When I saw that it was already close to 7:40 and she was still leisurely getting dressed, I started feeling a bit frustrated and couldn’t help but raise my voice, reminding her, “What about your jacket? Your water bottle? Your hat?” In my impatience, I didn’t properly respond when, on her way down the stairs, she said, “I’m still afraid of language class.” I knew she felt nervous about it, but in my rush, I brushed off her feelings, and that left me feeling a bit guilty throughout the morning.

After playing badminton this evening, I bought her a small chocolate as a token of apology, though I didn’t say anything about my intention. Before bed, I talked with Hamer about her fear of language class. Our conversation seemed to bring her some comfort. I shared with her my impression of the language teacher from the last parent-teacher meeting, telling her I found the teacher quite strict—even I felt she was hard to deal with, so it’s only natural for kids to feel intimidated. I also mentioned that last month, when we visited Ms. Yang, her language teacher made a point of complimenting her performance, letting her know that the teacher values and acknowledges her. Hamer, too, shared a moment when the teacher seemed warm—she’d gone up to the teacher with a piece of paper, and the teacher, smiling, asked her, “Got it now?” Hamer had smiled shyly back. This small interaction seemed to ease her a lot. We also chatted briefly about her P.E. teacher, and she laughed, saying he’s quite funny, always jokingly calling her by her full name, “Yi·Duan’er.”

When I woke up this morning, I remembered her mention of language class and realized she’d been learning initials and finals in pinyin lately. So I found some resources on Spotify for her and played them as she got ready. I hoped the audio would help her feel a bit more familiar with the material. For breakfast, we tried a new type of mini corn we’d bought. Though small, the kernels were plump and tasted great. I also took a cup of coffee to work in the new mug Xiaoyan had bought.

At work, I continued focusing on the development of the “G” feature. I spent a good part of the morning debugging an issue with chart display, eventually discovering that the Y-axis scale’s reserved space was causing gaps. After lunch, I didn’t take a break and used the time to fully resolve the issue. Then, I organized the state display for locations, constantly refining it to consider every possible scenario. Before I knew it, the entire afternoon had flown by, and I was actually a bit rushed to make it to badminton.

When I got home that evening, Xiaoyan and Hamer were doing an exercise routine together. After dinner, I helped Hamer with her homework, which wasn’t as heavy as the previous days. Once she finished washing up, she didn’t rush to bed. Instead, she quietly sat and focused on coloring her My Melody picture. We gently reminded her, “Try to go to bed earlier, or you won’t be able to get up tomorrow.” She replied casually, “Then I just won’t get up.” Xiaoyan and I couldn’t help but laugh, deciding not to push her any further and let her go at her own pace. Maybe sometimes it’s okay to let her make her own decisions—she’s right, after all. If she can’t get up, then she can’t get up.

Today is Dad’s birthday. The family prepared a table full of delicious dishes, and my uncle, grandmother, and sister all came over. They had dinner together, with a birthday cake to celebrate. It was lively and warm.

This Monday was busy as usual, but it felt productive and reassuring, like everything was back on track. While going through this week’s tasks in the morning, I realized there were fewer urgent things to handle, which was a relief. I could tackle things one by one at a steady pace. My primary focus during the day was still on developing the GNSS functionality, and today I concentrated on the Geodatabase data processing section. I resolved an issue where altitude was missing during playback, added several customizable fields for users, and also addressed conflicts with other features. One small issue after another was sorted out, and productivity was good.

In the morning, Hamer seemed a bit sleepy, and I was too—it was a tiring day yesterday, plus she stayed up late finishing homework. We didn’t take the e-bike today; as we were about to leave, I realized I had forgotten both my phone and wallet, so we ended up walking to school together.

On my way to work, Xiaoyan sneakily slipped an orange into my hat. I didn’t realize until I was in the elevator at the office, feeling something pressing against my head—only then did I discover her little “prank.” Such a mischievous one! Shortly after, the Starbucks coffee cup she secretly bought for me a few days ago was delivered. It feels nice to hold, and the size is perfect. Recently, Xiaoyan has bought me quite a few things—just this morning, I received a pair of jeans she bought last night. A few days ago, she got me a sweatshirt, sweater, and down jacket, practically setting me up for the whole winter. My attitude toward her shopping for me has also changed; now, I’m happy to wear whatever she picks out, which is a shift from my earlier resistance. Xiaoyan was a bit surprised by this, as I used to feel it wasn’t necessary to spend so much on clothes and preferred to choose my own.

Today, I left work on time and went home with Xiaoyan. Hamer got a head start on her homework today, so by the time we got back to help her, there were only a few parts she found challenging. We went through her tasks one by one based on her log, finishing up around 9:30 p.m. Toward the end, I suggested using a Pomodoro timer to help her manage her time, so she could have breaks between tasks. During each break, she and Xiaoyan would do some exercise together—she’s taken quite a liking to this recently, finding it both fun and relaxing.

This morning, the alarm went off around 7, and I was still feeling quite groggy. For a moment, I even considered telling Hamer that maybe we shouldn’t go to Fragrant Hills today. But before long, I got up and went to check on her room. She was already awake and even laughed, saying, “I saw you were still asleep, so I didn’t wake you.” After we washed up, we bundled up in warm clothes and headed out.

We grabbed breakfast at 7-11, where Hamer tried a rice ball and thought it was particularly tasty. She took a few bites of the chocolate donut she’d picked but soon focused on the rice ball instead. The sky was overcast, with heavy smog, and as we ate, it even started drizzling.

We took the subway to Fragrant Hills, and when we transferred to the Xijiao Transit Line, we discovered it was a unique two-car tram, which was pretty interesting. Once we arrived at Fragrant Hills, the first thing we saw was a lively shopping street. Hamer immediately had her eye on Mixue Bingcheng and candied hawthorn skewers, so we agreed to pick some up after our hike. Even before entering the park, we could already see some red leaves, but once inside, we realized the foliage wasn’t as widespread as we’d imagined—patches of yellow smoke trees, ginkgo, and maples dotted the path here and there.

We entered from the east gate and took the central route up the mountain. Although Hamer got a bit tired, she never once said she didn’t want to climb or asked me to carry her. At first, we took breaks fairly often, rehydrating and snacking each time. Gradually, the weather cleared, the sun came out, and the air warmed up quite a bit. At one point, we came across a small side path and, seeing others on it, decided to explore it like an adventure.

The path started as grass but soon turned into a steep, slippery mix of dirt and rocks. Hamer climbed carefully but determinedly, and as I watched her from behind, I felt a swell of pride. About halfway up, we looked back and realized this path was both long and steep—we had unknowingly taken Fragrant Hills’ hardest trail on the north side.

At last, we reached the summit and rested for a good while. Hamer happily played on the steps, using them like a slide over and over. She had an ice cream too. Earlier, she’d worried that if she had ice cream, she might have to skip the candied hawthorn skewers, and she even offered to give them up. I laughed and said, “You climbed all the way up here; of course, you deserve a reward! Let’s both enjoy them!” She happily dug into her ice cream, her face lit up with a look of pure contentment.

The descent was much easier, but we made it more interesting by picking two side trails as our “bonus challenge.” Both were rough, and we ended up covered in mud, but it added to the fun. Back at the base, we kept our promise—enjoyed candied hawthorn skewers and Mixue Bingcheng drinks—and then took the subway home.

The whole way back, Hamer was eager to get home to play with her aunt. After confirming that her aunt was at home, she showered quickly and dashed off to find her. That evening, after they returned for dinner, I asked her aunt to join us for Hamer’s homework session, which lasted from 7:30 to a little past 9.

This morning, Hamer got up relatively early. I called her once, and she didn’t linger in bed—she got up promptly.

During the day, I continued focusing on GNSS development, mainly working on implementing the new UI design, organizing the logic, and fixing various bugs. The deeper I got, the more I realized how many details needed careful handling. My colleague finished the workspace section today, and another colleague completed the elevation change chart. Practically everyone on the team has been involved in some aspect of this big feature, which makes me both grateful and a bit humbled by the collaborative effort.

In the evening, on the way to go shopping with Hamer, we talked about her day at school. She mentioned that her Chinese teacher had given her a “Good Job Ticket” as a reward. I asked her, “Did you feel sleepy in class today?” She shook her head, saying she didn’t. Then I asked, “So do you think it was worth it to stay up so late working hard on your homework last night?” She looked puzzled and asked, “What does ‘worth it’ mean?” Not sure how to explain it simply, I rephrased, “If you could choose again, would you still stay up late working hard on your homework?” Without a moment’s hesitation, she replied, “Of course! I want to get my homework done.” Her resolute tone filled me with admiration.

We met up with Xiaoyan at Hema, and after finishing our shopping, Xiaoyan took Hamer home while I went back to the office to put in a bit more work. I needed to merge a pending PR and wanted to address some unit conversion and I18N issues on the dashboard. I stayed until about 10 PM before heading home.

When I arrived home, Hamer was already asleep. Xiaoyan told me that earlier, Hamer had said to her, “Our Moral and Society teacher said elementary school students should get 10 hours of sleep every day.” So by 9 PM, Hamer had stopped everything she was doing, including the workbook she was so diligently working on yesterday, went to wash up, and went to bed. Xiaoyan relayed this with a bit of humor, amused by how closely Hamer follows her teacher’s advice and this display of “self-discipline.” Later in the evening, I asked Xiaoyan if she was feeling down, as she’d seemed a bit distracted while shopping, almost lost in thought. She told me she wasn’t exactly unhappy, just a bit disheartened because work hadn’t been going smoothly. She felt that her overseas project wasn’t being given enough attention within the company, and that was starting to make her feel somewhat unappreciated.

There was something I forgot to record yesterday, mainly a conversation Hamer and I had about how to interact with friends and how to view appearance (ideas of beauty and ugliness). These are concepts she’ll need time to understand gradually, and they’re topics I want to keep discussing with her to help her grow and better understand these things.