Earlier today I was at The Curve with my friends. We were walking towards an escalator and we saw a boy, no more than 8 years old, lying face down on the ceramic floor of the shopping mall. The boy of Chinese descent was lean and thin, with red rosy cheeks colouring his face. He was crying and right next to him was his father, telling him to get up.
At first it seemed as if the boy was a spoiled kid, not wanting to get up because his father didn't let him have his way.
"Get up! Get up now!"
I realized that the boy was crying not because he was spoiled, but because he literally couldn't get up. Leg braces were covering most of the boy's thin legs, a clear statement to the world that he has trouble walking without support. It was when I saw those braces I started to feel bad for the boy.
A question popped up in my head and probably in many other passers by was "Why isn't that father helping his son? Is he that frustrated with his son that he just resorted to yelling at his kid?".
It then struck me that the father was sweating, and his eyes weren't eyes of anger but eyes of trepidation. They kept shuffling between his son and the public who had their gaze on him. Judging him for being a bad father.
After countless of "Get up now!" by the father, the son did what we all thought he couldn't do.
He pushed his chest away from the floor using his hands, moved his legs and wearily got into a squatting position. Slowly but eventually, his body raised and his legs straightened. He was crying throughout his motions as it was obvious that it took a lot of effort and he was very much in pain.
But there he was, without any support from his father, standing straight.
Turns out he wasn't angry nor frustrated with the metal plated boy in the first place. He did what a great father would've done.
He helped his son grow stronger that day.
