How old are you? Wow! Looketyeewww. Time flies so quickly doesn’t it? Wasn’t it like a week ago you were in SHS? Now there are so many year groups behind you it’s like their mere existence is just to spite and get you moping about how quickly old age is creeping in. It’s such a relief that Facebook only notifies people about your birthday but doesn’t tell them exactly how old you are isn’t it? Lol, I feel you on that.

But at the same time it’s hard to think of how far you’ve come without pausing to thank God right? See your tithe right now, that was your salary some months back, mi boa? You don’t need to think hard to remember a few time’s God has made you weak in the knees, right? And then you also remember how little you’ve done to show your gratitude and then you feel bad. Your mind replays your shortfalls or insufficient efforts in demonstrating your love for this great God and you feel bad.

It’s not easy though is it? I mean, see how busy you are, see how the jobs keep lining up, where’s the time to foreplay him with 30 mins worship before warming up into chandaskabolose mandakristo? Plus you wake up one day and it just occurs to that ‘Oh Goodness, the beautiful ones have been born!” But have they? Have they been born…or made up and ‘mascarad’? Lol, dont let me go there po. Read More Cheap Martyrs!

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I want to show you some photos. I chanced upon a Facebook page with a collection of photos that had me smiling; I’ll tell you why shortly. Actually let me tell you some now. In most of the shots, there’s an irreverent child who doesn’t care that his father is CEO with several dozen employees waiting on him. She doesn’t care that he’s the Minister of Defense, or about the immense power he wields. He doesn’t care that dad is 6ft. 5 and a professional wrestler.

She doesn’t care that he makes full-grown men stutter and whimper when they sit across him in his office. If she wants to paint, he better be a canvas, if he wants to ride, he better be a horse. If no cousins are around when she wants to play, he better be ready to be Barbie. That’s a TM Lewin shirt, so? If he wants to throw up, that shirt is a bib for all he cares. People knock to enter his office; well she never got the memo. To her he’s the other human she owns. He is dad, her personal person. You look at these photos and see what I mean. Read More Meet The Silliest Dad Ever!

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