Parenting is an endless, thankless slog, so the joy it sparkles hits like a missile strike, except that the ripples it triggers descend gently upon my soul.

My son was reading a text about stationery from his textbook. He struggled with some words — as per usual — but managed it decently on the whole. I assumed that his Chinese teacher had covered this text with the class earlier this week.

It was only when he flipped to the earlier chapters of his textbook that I realised that my assumption was way wrong. This text was in Chapter 7! Curious, I asked him whether his teacher had skipped all the earlier chapters and wanted to focus on teaching names of stationery items. You know, classroom readiness and preparedness and all that jazz.

“No,” he answered, “I just wanted to read this.” This was the instant when joy engulfed me, caressing it like a warm blanket. Apparently, he had retained more from his kindergarten lessons than I expected. Also, I claim some credit for his relative comfort with reading. Without me, he would definitely have struggled with more words and phrases! All my efforts forcing this horse to drink from the well of Chinese wisdom have not gone to waste!

It’s moments like this that provide a sparkle of colour to those endless days of parenting.