It’s hard to believe how fast time is flying — almost May already. Tonight at 9:27 p.m., I’m sitting with my three children, reflecting on what felt like an ordinary Sunday… yet held extraordinary moments.

Last night, I barely slept — just two or three hours. My body was begging me to rest when the alarm rang at 6 a.m. But I made a decision: I would not be driven by my physical condition. I would honor my commitment to my parents. I would trust that rest could come later, but memories cannot always wait.

I woke my children up, packed our things, and went on with the plan.

Because some things — like keeping promises, cherishing parents, and setting an example for your children — are bigger than momentary tiredness.

Spending Time with Parents: Seasons Change

The hike was an easy one. The air was light, and so was the laughter. We spent time not just with my parents, but with their hiking friends — reconnecting over roti canai at Mana Cafe after the walk.

And as we sat there, talking about AI, about health trends, about simple daily things, I realized something had shifted.

My parents no longer looked at me like the baby they needed to care for. The roles were changing, quietly. I was now being asked for opinions. I was quietly being trusted to lead parts of the family that I once only followed. The baton is being passed — not by force, but by love.

It’s a strange, beautiful feeling.

And I am grateful that I can still walk this transition with them while they are healthy, still giving, still smiling, still holding the family in their quiet way.

Guiding the Next Generation: Bicycles and Life

Later in the afternoon, I took Eann, Aden, and Evan to walk the dog and cycle.

It sounds simple — walking the dog, riding bikes — but it’s not just playtime. It’s a classroom without walls.

I reminded them: keep left. Watch for cars. Respect others on the road. Not by lecturing them at home behind closed doors, but by walking beside them, correcting them gently, again and again, until it sinks in.

If I were cycling alone, it would be so much easier. No need to slow down, no need to watch three young riders wobble and swerve.

But that’s not parenting.

Parenting is to walk the longer, harder road — not for your own speed, but for their formation.

And today, I saw progress. Evan kept left. Ian watched for us before crossing. Eann rode with more mindfulness.

Slowly, painfully, beautifully — they are learning.

The Small Wins that Matter

Today wasn’t filled with grand achievements.

But it was filled with small, precious wins.

My eldest son prayed before the meal.

Eann, my second son, prayed too — unprompted.

Small victories like these are easy to overlook, but they are the foundation stones of a life that matters.

In a world chasing “bigger,” I want to teach my sons to celebrate the small wins that build character.

Work Hard or Work Smart? Both.

In the car, after our ride, I told them a true story from my own life.

When I moved from a Chinese school background into an English university, I struggled badly. My peers could grasp concepts after one round. I needed six. I carried a dictionary with me every day.

And while others slept or relaxed, I quietly did six rounds of revision to catch up.

It wasn’t brilliance that got me through.

It was a habit of working harder and longer than necessary — because I had to.

And so I told them:

Work smart — yes.

But don’t abandon hard work.

Both are needed.

Both make you ready for a world that demands resilience.

When Trust Becomes Skin-Deep

Later in the evening, another reflection weighed on me.

Not about parenting.

About trust.

I realized that sometimes, even after years of friendship, you discover that relationships remain surface-deep. That no matter how vulnerable you are, some people will only respond with diplomacy, never truth.

It’s painful — when you once believed trust was deep, but you realize it was never more than skin-deep.

And yet, part of growing up — even as adults — is to accept this without bitterness.

Not everyone is meant to walk deeply with you.

Some remain at the surface, and that’s okay.

You bless them. You release them. You keep walking.

Closing Reflections

Today was nothing extraordinary on the outside.

A simple hike. A breakfast with friends. Cycling lessons. Small prayers.

Ordinary Sunday things.

But it was filled with everything that matters:

Family. Legacy. Hard lessons. Small victories. Deeper reflections. Quiet gratitude.

I don’t want a life where I only celebrate the loud victories.

I want a life where Sundays like this — quiet, hidden, full of small faithful choices — are counted as the true wins.

Because at the end of it all, it’s not just what we built that matters.

It’s who we became along the way.

Good night.