Courage

I have had difficulty in telling the difference between pronouncing "my pleasure"" and "my pressure" for as long as I can remember.

Yes, you read me right. And yes, they sound similar to my ears. I admit that my phonic skill is not as good as my six-year-old daughter.

And yet.

And yet.

I taught my daughter how similar the two words "pleasure" and "pressure" turn out to be.

Yesterday, before my Christmas holiday ended, we met our friends and decided to have bike ride. My daughter has learned riding bikes without training wheels for more than six months. But now we were talking about going to the cycling trails on a public holiday. Few things turn her stomach more than trying something new. Many, and I am among them, will demur to going beyond our comfort zone.

No one, least of all a six-year-old, can discount the intimidating effect of riding bike parallel to somewhat-like-Tour-de-France-team at arm's length. Or even in opposite direction. My daughter wanted to say no. She was afraid and didn't dare join our bike ride.

"No. I really don't want to," I heard her declare.

I simply smiled and said brightly, "I know you can try, and I'm here. I will stay behind." My daughter then put on her helmet, reluctantly at first, learning her way to transform pressure into pleasure. And she did.