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Twice a month, I visit a little shop in Dumaguete, called Barberia, to have my nails cleaned.  I always look forward to these visits because I get to have an hour and a half to myself and I always enjoy the music and the reading materials the shop provides.  Normally, I just keep to myself, but last week my eyes were transfixed on a chubby little kid that reminded me so much of myself when I was young.

Obviously the kid hadn’t been frequenting the barber shop because his dad was still there cheering him on.  The sight of the father and son brought me back to my childhood.  My father was also always there when I had my haircut.  I vividly remember how prior to each visit to the barber, my father would ease my nerves by bribing me with a burger or spaghetti treat in one of the snack shops in San Carlos.

| was too sure that the same method worked well with the kid, but the next thing I heard almost scandalized me.  The father was chanting, “Wow, ang gwapo-gwapo ni Jun-Jun!”  I had to give the child a second look to validate what the father said, but sad to say, what I saw on the mirror was a solid evidence of what my friend, Lara, said a few months ago: “Not all kids are cute.”

Looking back, I couldn’t recall my dad complimenting me about my good looks.  I don’t know if my dad’s silence about my physical attributes was his way of telling me that physical beauty is not important or was his gentle hint that my physical features didn’t warrant such compliment.  What I know is that my self-confidence wasn’t built because my parents built up the illusion that I was good-looking.  While my dad was stingy with praises about my looks, he was definitely generous with his praises about my abilities.  My dad never failed to remind me and my siblings that we were just as good as anybody else, and to stretch it a little, he would add that we were probably better.  As kids, my brother, sister, and I were quite impressionable, and every time we would gush about somebody’s good abilities to our dad, his standard reply would always be, “Is s/he better than you?”  Hearing that would always leave a big smile on my face because even if I know that the answer to his question may be a resounding “YES”, the fact that somebody strongly believes in me that way  could drive me to do better than what I think is my best.

When the father and son left the shop, I couldn’t help wondering how the child would turn out as a human being.  Would his father’s compliment have an impact on his life?