Through A Child’s Eyes
It was a sunny spring afternoon as a father and his young daughter walked back from the park. A jogger passed them, wearing a two-piece bathing suit. Nearby, a couple of pedestrians glanced at the jogger, their disapproving looks lingering as if questioning her choice. The girl squinted, her small hand shading her eyes, and looked up at her father.
Little Girl: “Dad, why is she wearing a swimsuit here? Isn’t it for swimming?”
Dad: (glancing briefly at the jogger) “She’s probably just staying cool, sweetheart. It’s warm today.”
Little Girl: “But it’s not summer yet, and this isn’t the beach.”
Her dad chuckled, patting her head.
Dad: “Well, sometimes people wear swimsuits outside when it’s hot. It’s just normal.”
She tilted her head, unconvinced.
Little Girl: “Is it normal like how I wear my pajamas to bed? Or like how we wear boots when it rains?”
Dad: (smiling) “Kind of. People just do what feels right for the weather.”
She frowned, deep in thought. A few moments passed as they walked in silence.
Little Girl: “But remember in the winter, when I wanted to wear my favorite costume to the store, you said it wasn’t the right time? Even though I liked it?”
The dad’s smile tightened, sensing the conversation was going somewhere.
Dad: “That’s different, sweetie. Costumes are for special occasions. People don’t expect to see them every day.”
Little Girl: “So swimsuits are for swimming… but only sometimes?”
Dad: “Exactly. It’s just the way people are.”
The little girl looked up at him, her face puzzled.
Little Girl: “But if it’s just the way people are, who decided it?”
The dad stopped mid-step, caught off guard. He crouched down, meeting her gaze.
Dad: “No one really decided, honey. It’s just how things have been for a long time. People like to follow what feels normal.”
She nodded slowly but still didn’t look satisfied.
Little Girl: “But why does ‘normal’ keep changing? You said swimsuits aren’t normal in spring, but then in summer, it’s okay to wear them everywhere — even to the store. How come it’s wrong now but right later?”
Her dad hesitated, rubbing the back of his neck.
Dad: “Because… it just depends on where you are and what people are used to. That’s how society works.”
They resumed walking, but the girl’s small voice broke the quiet again.
Little Girl: “So, it’s not about the clothes being right or wrong — it’s just about what other people think?”
Her dad gave a small laugh, unsure how to respond.
Dad: “You ask a lot of questions, you know that?”
The girl smiled faintly but didn’t let it go.
Little Girl: “I’m just trying to understand. It sounds like people wear things because they’re scared of looking weird, not because it makes sense.”
Her dad stopped again, this time with a bemused smile. He crouched once more, placing his hands on her shoulders.
Dad: “Sweetheart, sometimes people do things just to feel like they belong. It might not always make sense, but it makes them feel comfortable.”
She looked up at him, her eyes clear and steady.
Little Girl: “But isn’t it sillier to do things that don’t make sense, just to make other people happy?”
Her dad opened his mouth, then closed it again. For a moment, he looked like he wanted to answer, but instead, he stood and ruffled her hair.
Dad: “You’ve got a sharp little brain, kiddo. Let’s get home.”
As they walked the final stretch to their house, her thoughts lingered, sharp and simple:
“If normal doesn’t make sense, why is it called normal?”
