I didn't want to compare my daughter to anyone.

It was the day of the nursery school event.

The 3-year-old class lined up at the front, and the music began to play.

Some children waved their hands enthusiastically while watching the teacher's movements.

Some sang at the top of their lungs.

Some danced while laughing with the friends next to them.

From the parents' seating area, laughter could be heard here and there.

In the midst of all that, my daughter was the only one who didn't move.

She didn't dance.

She didn't sing.

She just stood there, staring straight ahead with her hands at her sides.

She dances so much at home.

Whenever Disney music plays, she dances for me over and over, saying, "Look, Daddy!"

A friend who was a little further away came up to her.

"Let's dance together!"

I could tell that was what they were inviting her to do.

But my daughter just turned her face away slightly and gave a look that seemed to say, "Hmph."

In the end, she didn't dance at all.

Watching her, I wasn't looking at my daughter; I was looking at the other children.

"Everyone else is dancing."

That was the moment I thought that.

"Ah."

I just compared her.

I wasn't looking at my daughter; I was looking at "my daughter compared to the others."

⸻

The event ended, and we walked home along our usual path.

As if the tension from earlier was a lie, my daughter stopped to look at flowers by the roadside and picked up small stones to show me.

"Did you have fun today?"

I asked casually.

"Yeah! It was fun!"

Her reply was so simple.

I almost asked,

"Even though you couldn't dance?"

But I stopped myself.

It wasn't my daughter who hadn't had fun.

It was me who had been thinking that way.

⸻

Monday.

After finishing student interviews at the office, I opened my evaluation sheet.

In a landscape completely different from yesterday, I was looking at someone again.

In HR work, you look at people.

You look at their strengths.

You look at their differences.

It's not about who is good and who is bad.

To find what makes a person who they are, comparison is sometimes necessary.

That is the job.

But what about me at the nursery school?

Before looking at what made my daughter who she is, I had looked at the "difference between her and the others."

Perhaps I had brought the perspective necessary for my work into my life as a father.

⸻

When I got home, my daughter was her usual self.

Holding her favorite dinosaur in both hands, she laughed and said,

"Daddy is a dinosaur too!"

She pounced on me saying, "Roar!" and giggled when I caught her.

She laughs so much that I wonder if she is really the same child who froze up at the event.

Watching her, the events of the day gradually faded away.

Perhaps I had thought I knew this child by only taking a snapshot of a few minutes of her life.

⸻

Night.

After putting her to bed, only her quiet breathing remained in the room.

She kicked off her blanket while sleeping, just like every other day.

Only her feet were sticking out from under the covers.

I gently tucked her back in.

I brushed her bangs aside with my finger.

Watching her sleeping face, I remembered my daughter from earlier that day.

Was she troubled?

Surely not.

On the way home, she laughed and said it was fun.

At home, she played as a dinosaur.

She ate her dinner as usual and went to sleep saying, "Goodnight."

It wasn't my daughter who was troubled.

It was me.

"Why won't she dance?"

"Everyone else can do it."

I thought things like that, worried on my own, and felt impatient on my own.

Even though my daughter was just standing there, being herself.

⸻

When you work in HR, the word "evaluation" comes up every single day.

But as a parent, I realize something.

Evaluation and growth are a little different.

Growth isn't determined by whether you are faster than someone else.

I know that in my head.

Even so, there are days when I compare.

And there probably will be in the future, too.

That's why I can't say, "I am a father who doesn't compare."

I'm sure there will be days when I look at the other children at the nursery school again.

Every time that happens, I want to remember the walk home today.

"Did you have fun today?"

"Yeah! It was fun!"

What was important to my daughter wasn't whether she could dance or not.

And yet, perhaps it was I who was missing what was important.

Tomorrow, I will look at people for work again.

But when I get home, before I evaluate, before I compare.

First, I will look at the daughter right in front of me.

I think there will be days I can do that, and days I can't.

That is why I want to hold onto that "Ah." moment from today.

⸻

Thank you for reading until the end.

In this note, I put into words the things I feel through raising my child as a single father and through my work in HR.

If you think, "I'd like to read more," I would be happy if you followed me.

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