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Tag: care

  • Mishomisho Part Two: The Day She Became a Princess

    Mishomisho Part Two: The Day She Became a Princess

    Ever since my niece watched The Little Mermaid, something shifted in her tiny world. She’s been twirling around the house, trying singing Ariel’s songs with full confidence, as if she’s part of the movie. And when she looks at me and says “mishomisho,” I know exactly what she means now, princess. It’s her own little word for everything magical and royal.

    So we decided to make her princess dreams a little more real. We went to the mall, and our first stop was the small petting zoo inside. She loved looking at the animals, but touching them was a big no. She kept her hands tucked close to her body, watching them with wide eyes, half curious, half cautious. Still, she enjoyed every minute of it, as long as nobody asked her to pet anything.

    Then came the highlight of the day: the Disney shop. The moment we stepped inside, her eyes lit up. Rows of glittering dresses, tiny shoes, and sparkly accessories, it was like walking straight into her imagination. She chose two costumes: the shimmering turquoise Little Mermaid outfit and the soft pink‑lavender Rapunzel gown.

    In the fitting room, she tried them on one by one. When she saw herself in the mirror, she whispered “mishomisho” with this proud little smile, like she finally saw the princess she’s been pretending to be. She twirled, admired herself, and I swear the whole room felt brighter.

    After that, we went for lunch and dessert, because every princess outing needs something sweet. She sat there in her tiny dress, eating ice cream like it was part of the royal routine.

    When we got home, she ran straight to her mother to show off her new dresses. Her mom’s reaction was pure joy, and the way my niece stood there waiting for approval was the cutest thing. It was the perfect ending to a perfect day, full of laughter, tiny memories, and the soft magic of childhood.

  • A mother’s love

    A mother’s love

    A mother’s love doesn’t always arrive from the woman who raised us. Sometimes, life places that love in unexpected hands in a mother‑in‑law whose kindness feels gentler than anything we’ve known, whose affection grows slowly, quietly, almost shyly, until one day we realize it has become a steady part of our life.

    We may not talk often. We may not share the same interests or hobbies. Our conversations might be short, polite, even a little awkward. But love doesn’t need perfect symmetry. Sometimes it lives in the small, intentional gestures the ones that speak louder than words.

    She shows her love through food, the oldest language of care. She remembers your favorite dishes, cooks them especially for you, and sends them to your home with a kind of proud tenderness. She praises you to others, speaks of you fondly, and her face tightens with hurt when someone disrespects you. Her love is quiet but loyal, soft but protective. It stands up for you even when you’re not there to hear it.

    And then there is the father‑in‑law the unexpected warmth. He calls you “my beloved” حبيبتي shares funny videos and interesting things he finds online, as if saving them just for you. He offers you his favorite chocolates and fruits, and when he sees you enjoy them, he buys more and sends them your way. His affection is simple, honest, and full of intention.

    He trusts you with the parts of himself he may hide from others. His deepest thoughts, his quiet worries and his tender emotions. He cries in front of you, not out of weakness, but out of comfort. That’s simply different, a space where he can be vulnerable without words.

    Together, they’ve become something I never expected: a second set of parents. Not by blood, not by tradition, but by love, the kind that chooses you, protects you, and stays.