children

Children: Our most valuable natural resource.

Sleepless in Solitude Part 2
I see and hear some mothers complaining about how their babies are the 'terrible twos', messing up the house, getting into everything, pen marks everywhere, baby gates being climbed over, messy eating time and so on and so forth. Many times I have seen babies at 8 months old, less than 1 year old, etc. talking, crawling everywhere, mums running after them, doing all sorts of things and sometimes I wished my daughter could do the same...
By Esther Oyewoleabout a year ago in Families
Sleepless in Solitude: Did Any Of It Work?
Did Any Of It Work? Sleeplessness is a strange companion. While the world sleeps, I am awake, with my special daughter, I have 3). I have been a stay at home mum for so long that I can't even begin to contemplate returning to the rat race that is called 'work' — alarms, traffic jams, awkward office small talk — my brain freezes just thinking about it. My reason, you ask, maybe I'll share it in my next story. My husband is the only one working, and, although he has a well paid job, I can't help but feel like I should contribute something.
By Esther Oyewoleabout a year ago in Families
The Creative Parent’s Toolkit for Organized and Joyful Family Life
Parenting is a beautiful balancing act. Between school runs, meal prep, bedtime routines, and the occasional spontaneous mess, it’s easy for days to blur into a whirlwind of to-dos. And for families across the UAE, Qatar, and the wider Gulf region, where households are often multigenerational and fast-paced, structure can be a saving grace.
By Cleo Tanabout a year ago in Families
I'm Not a Hot Mess, I'm Just Overstimulated.. Content Warning.
This is a story I never thought I'd share, but here we are. My youngest daughter was two when it happened. When the Goldfish hit the carpet.
By Ash Ylvisakerabout a year ago in Families
When Silence Fell Between Us . Content Warning. AI-Generated.
The first thing Leila noticed was that Daniel stopped asking how her day was. It didn’t happen overnight. At first, it was just once or twice—he’d come home late, kiss her on the cheek absently, and head straight to the couch. She told herself he was tired, stressed, distracted. Work had been rough. Life was just busy. But then it became a pattern. A new routine. Quiet replaced curiosity.
By FAWAD KOKOabout a year ago in Families
Mother of Sons
Mother of Sons By [Javid khan] Category: Fiction / History / Poets Style: Epistolary March 4th, 1943 My dearest Thomas,
By PROFESSOR PROFESSORabout a year ago in Families
Kids Aren’t Bad, They’re Growing
When I was a child, I once broke a vase while running around the house. My mom sighed loudly, scolded me, and said I was being a “bad kid.” But my grandma, who had been quietly watching from the corner of the room, said something I’ve never forgotten. She gently placed her hand on my shoulder and said, “He’s not bad — he’s just growing.”
By majid aliabout a year ago in Families
"Bottles of Hope"
The sun had barely risen over the dusty streets of Karachi, and already the city buzzed with life. Rickshaws honked, vendors shouted their morning deals, and people rushed to work. But in one forgotten corner of the city, under a broken streetlight and beside a garbage bin, two children were already hard at work—collecting bottles. Ayaan, just 11 years old, and his little sister Zoya, only 7, were barefoot, with torn clothes and tired eyes. Life hadn’t been kind to them. Their father had passed away in a factory fire two years ago, and their mother had fallen ill soon after. With no income and no one to care for them, the siblings had taken up bottle collecting—roaming streets, digging through trash, and hoping to collect enough plastic and glass to sell for a few rupees. Each bottle was more than just trash—it was a chance to fill their empty stomachs. “Zoya, look! There’s one under that bench!” Ayaan pointed, rushing over. Zoya followed, her tiny hands gripping a torn sack twice her size. She smiled faintly as she dropped the bottle into it. “How many more, bhai?” she asked. “Maybe 20 more, then we can get roti,” Ayaan replied, trying to sound hopeful. But it was hard. Most people ignored them. Some yelled when they got close to their shops. Others just looked away. They worked silently, walking street after street. The heat grew stronger, and their legs ached. Zoya’s stomach growled loudly. Ayaan heard it. “Let’s rest under that tree,” he said gently. They sat on the pavement, sipping from a discarded juice box they’d found earlier. It was warm and nearly empty, but it helped a little. “Bhai, do you think Mama will get better?” Zoya asked, her eyes full of innocent hope. Ayaan paused. Their mother hadn’t moved much in days. Her cough was worse, and she hadn’t eaten properly. He didn’t know the answer, but he couldn’t crush her hope. “She will,” he said quietly. “As soon as we get some medicine.” After the short rest, they continued their search. At a park nearby, they found a few more bottles. Zoya smiled when a kind lady gave her a water bottle and some leftover paratha wrapped in paper. They both shared it quickly, feeling like it was a feast. By afternoon, their bag was half full. They knew it wouldn’t get them much—maybe 30 to 40 rupees—but it was better than nothing. As they walked past a school, Ayaan stared through the gate. Children their age were laughing in uniforms, holding books and lunchboxes. For a moment, he imagined himself and Zoya sitting inside, learning, smiling, full of dreams. But the honk of a car snapped him back to reality. “Come on, Zoya. Let’s finish fast.” By evening, they had collected enough. They walked to the old scrap dealer, who weighed the sack and handed them 45 rupees. Ayaan immediately bought two rotis and a little daal from a nearby stall. They sat in a quiet corner, eating with their hands, happy to have something warm. With the remaining money, Ayaan bought a strip of medicine for his mother, remembering what the shopkeeper had suggested last time. It wasn’t much, but he prayed it would help. They returned to their tiny room near the railway tracks. Their mother lay on a mat, her breathing weak. Ayaan helped her take the medicine and sat beside her, stroking her forehead. Zoya curled up beside them, her eyes already closing. As darkness fell over the city, the two siblings fell asleep—exhausted, but proud. They had fought hunger, fought despair, and survived another day. To the world, they were just two poor children picking bottles. But to each other, they were warriors—quietly battling life with courage, love, and hope.
By Osmaniabout a year ago in Families
What My Grandmother Whispered Before She Died Still Haunts Me Today.
When someone is about to die, you expect the parting words to be poetic. Peaceful, perhaps. Last prayers. A simple “I love you.”
By Echoes of Lifeabout a year ago in Families
Food Festival 3: The Cooking Game for Kids That’s More Than Just Play
🎮 What Is Food Festival 3? Food Festival 3 is a cooking game for kids that centers around a fun, fast food theme. At launch, the game will focus exclusively on burgers, allowing kids to:
By Alina Turlevskaabout a year ago in Families
Why Some Relationships Don’t Last Long
In the beginning, everything feels perfect. The texts, the calls, the laughs, the smiles — it all seems like a dream. But with time, something changes. Small fights turn into big arguments. Smiles turn into silent nights. You begin to ask yourself, “What happened to us?”
By Umar Khattakabout a year ago in Families
7 Early Signs of Autism in Babies Every Parent Should Know
Autism in infants can make a significant difference in getting timely support and interventions. While autism spectrum disorder (ASD) doesn’t affect a baby’s physical appearance, it can influence how they communicate, interact, and engage with the world around them. Understanding these early indicators can help parents and caregivers identify potential developmental delays and seek appropriate guidance.
By Mind Grove Therapyabout a year ago in Families