Aida Zabidi
His chubby little fingers brushed the petals of the daisy crown on his baby sister’s forehead, surprisingly gentle for a usually rough two year old. 

“Pretty flowers,” he exclaimed, his face lighting up in a delighted grin. 

His grin added a certain confidence to his whole persona, his personality shining through for someone still so young. He seemed to be growing by leaps and bounds with the discoveries that he made every day, and it was nothing short of magical to see him discover the world through his still innocent eyes. 

He would remark on the sky one day, or the birds or animals that he encountered, at lights in shopping malls and vehicles on the street with the same unperturbed enthusiasm that he seemed to apply to everything.

His sister scrunched up her face as his ministrations became less tender in his excitement and eventually he succumbed to the romping that all little boys seemed to want to do, which endeared him even less to the toddler. 

How beautiful it was to see him grow.
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