Toronto – Friday, the 13th of February, 2026. We are looking after our 4 1/2 year old grand daughter Amaal this week while her parents are at a conference. And it has been absolutely delightful (with the occasional meltdown because even tiny queens have feelings.)
She introduced us to K-pop Demon Hunters – the songs and the movie. When the bad guys showed up in the movie, she would talk right over the dialogue to reassure us: “Don’t worry. Everything will be ok.” Such calm authority from someone who still sometimes needs help finding her stuffies.
We are now also fluent in Daniel Tiger’s Neighborhood. We sing the little life lessons like seasoned preschool philosophers. “When you feel so mad that you want to roar…Take a deep breath and count to four.” And of course, there is the old familiar Paw Patrol. Because apparently no crisis is too big when you have animated dogs and teamwork.
We have spent endless time building Lego blocks with her, playing board games, colouring and having tea parties. Watching a play at Famous People Players was a highlight.
Yesterday, Amaal came to The Princess Margaret while I was having treatment. She and her Opa Nagib went to play at the hospital’s Magic Castle while I got my treatment. When my bloodwork meant I needed a magnesium infusion, she insisted on coming to see me.
But not before she went back into the Magic Castle…and chose a stuffy. “For you, Nima. To make you feel better.” Leadership. Compassion. Action.
And then – the compliment of the year: “I know you have cancer, Nima. But you don’t act like a sick person. You do everything and you look well.” Out of the mouths of grandchildren.
She belts out Rosé-Bruno Mars’ APT like she’s on a world tour. She cheers for Canada as if our volume alone will determine the score. She also cheers for every country she has visited, and Korea (because of K-Pop!).
She is mischievous. Creative. Full of conviction. A rule-follower. Shy. Boisterous. A negotiator. Dramatic. A meaning maker.
Her biggest wish in life right now?A baby rainbow unicorn. She prays for it. Not casually. With full belief.
This morning she tried to convince us to move to Portugal. She already has a packing plan for us.
Here’s what I’m realizing: Children live in possibility. They assume things will be okay. They believe cheering changes outcomes. They get you a stuffy when you’re hooked up to an IV. They pray for baby rainbow unicorns like heaven is taking notes.
They don’t deny hard things.They just refuse to let the hard things define the story. Maybe that’s the invitation.
To live fully. To sing loudly. To comfort generously. To pray boldly. To believe in unicorns and magnesium and miracles at the same time.
Because life is not waiting for perfect conditions. It’s happening in hospital rooms and movie theatres. In Daniel Tiger songs and Paw Patrol rescues. In meltdowns and magic castles.
And sometimes the wisest voice in the room is 3 feet tall and telling you: “Don’t worry. Everything will be ok.”
I am finding that I am borrowing a little more Amaal energy as I go about my day. A little more belief. A little more play. A little more stubborn joy. And when things feel uncertain, I hear her voice over the noise, ”Don’t worry. Everything will be okay.”
