🎨 Personal Blog: The Day My 6-Year-Old Taught Me Colours
It started with a dress. Not a lecture. Not a classroom session. Just a simple father-daughter moment.
That morning, I was chatting with my daughter—my third child out of four beautiful children I have today. She stood there in her little dress, full of confidence and calm. I looked at her outfit, smiled, and said:
“This red dress looks so nice on you.”
She didn’t flinch. Just tilted her head, looked up at me with those honest eyes, and said:
“Daddy… it’s pink.”
I blinked. Pink ke? Wasn’t it red? But the way she said it, with boldness and assurance—it made me pause. And that pause opened the door to something unexpectedly amazing.
🌈 The Colour Challenge Begins
Naturally, I had to “test” her. 😄 I started pointing to objects around the room: books, toys, wrappers, baskets, even clothes on the line.
She named them all.
“That’s teal.”
“This is peach.”
“Daddy, that’s not yellow—it’s mustard!”
At some point, I honestly couldn’t argue anymore. I brought out Google Lens just to double-check the colours she was confidently naming.
Can you imagine? A tech dad—me—getting schooled by my 6-year-old in colour recognition.
🪴 Back to the Garden — Our First Colour Lessons
As I laughed and marveled at how much she knew, a memory flashed back from when she was just three years old.
We were in my small garden, picking up unwanted trash—nylons, cottons, little bits of paper that had no business being around plants and soil. I was holding the basket while she picked things up one by one.
Then I tried to turn it into a game: I pointed with my stick and called out colours.
“Pick up that red nylon.”
“Get that white one there.”
“Now the black wrapper near the leaf.”
She followed every single instruction.
It was a little moment back then… but now, I realize we were laying the foundation. That garden was her first colour classroom. And I was her very first art teacher—without even knowing it.
👨🏽🎓 Tables Turned: Now She’s Teaching Me
Fast forward three years, and she’s no longer the student. She’s the expert. I’m just the guy holding the stick. 😅
And honestly? I don’t feel bad.
In fact, I feel proud.
It means she’s observant. She’s confident. She’s growing. And somewhere along the line, I must’ve done something right.
💬 Final Thoughts
Sometimes, parenting doesn’t come with grand speeches or fancy gadgets. Sometimes, it comes in tiny hands holding trash, or bold voices correcting you with “Daddy, it’s pink.”
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