Teach your boy child “ Men are not Polygamous in Nature
Teach your boy child that “a Man not cheating isn’t Simp but rare gem
Teach him not to seek Validation from DAMAGED Men on social media
Teach Your boy child how to handle Rejections
Teach your Boy child Consents & No means No
Teach your Boy the beauty of staying faithful with one woman
Teach your boy child respect towards women
Teach Your boy child the gravity of their actions
Lastly :Be a Good examples to your boy child because you can tell them all this things but if you’re not leading by examples then you’re a joker.
Happy INTERNATIONAL BOY CHILD DAY 🩷.
This was my sister before cancer, full of life and dreams
Now she’s fighting Hodgkin’s lymphoma and going through chemotherapy at just 22years. 🥹🥹
Please don’t let cancer be the end of Lauretta. Donation link is in my bio.
Nothing is too small
keep sharing and donating 🙏🏾🙏🏾
This afternoon, I was on my way back to work, so where i sat down to wait for my colleague i stopped this woman, she hawks pure water, I noticed she was looking upwards, her eye ball has changed is not moving anymore like it should be,😢😢😢 so she dropped pure water bowl then find her way to sit down and started crying also talking to her self, her eyes has started again 😢 she can't see well anymore at this point i felt so pity, people surrounded her asking her what happened, though some of them already know about her eyes condition, she was just tearing up all the sake of she wants to feed her children. Please let's this v1deo get to right audience and helpful people.
This happened in Papalanto before Ewekoro Abeokuta express way.
- TT:Arabybim33
My daughter stopped coming out of her room six months after her best friend died in a car accident. She was fourteen and the grief swallowed her whole, turned her into this ghost who only existed behind a closed door I wasn't allowed to knock on. Her therapist said to give her space, her father said to give her time, but I was watching my child disappear and nobody could tell me how to pull her back. I'd stand outside her door at night listening to her cry and feeling like the most useless mother who ever lived.
She mentioned once, months ago before everything went dark, that her friend always said if she could paint her room any color it would be hot pink because her parents would never let her. Such a small stupid thing to remember but it was the only piece of her I had left that still felt alive. I bought the paint on a Tuesday, the kind of bright aggressive pink that makes your eyes hurt, and I didn't ask permission. Just walked into her room while she was at a therapy appointment and started painting her door. When she came home she stood in the hallway staring at it and I thought I'd made a terrible mistake, crossed some line I couldn't uncross.
She touched the door and started crying, said "this was her favorite color." I told her I knew, that I remembered everything she'd ever told me even when she thought I wasn't listening. We spent the next three days painting her whole room together, barely talking but working side by side. Found custom drawer pulls and hooks in a shop in matching pink and installed them while she told me stories about her friend I'd never heard. Started a small shop myself actually, selling painted doorstops and coat hooks in wild colors, every purchase going into a fund for teen grief counseling. My daughter helped me photograph them last week and I heard her laugh for the first time in eight months. This door didn't fix everything. But it opened something between us that had been locked shut. Her friend would've loved how bright it is. My daughter says the same thing every time she comes home now. That's enough.
By Jasmine lamb