When my future wife (Claire Rose was her name at the time) was 12 years old, her father carved for her one of the nicest hairbrushes I have ever laid eyes on for his daughter’s birthday. After her father had died of cancer months later, she held on to the wooden hairbrush as one of her last memories of her father.

Many years passed, me and Claire got married, and we gave birth to our beautiful baby girl Laurie only three days before my wife turned thirty years old. Although Claire had told me that I didn’t need to buy a gift for her because Laurie was enough for her, I had secretly been working on polishing and fixing up the old hairbrush that Claire had loved so much. (If you could not tell, carpentry is a passion I have held dear for quite some time.)

After we had finished eating cake, I walked to the garage to grab the gift. As soon as I had opened the house door to show Claire the new and improved hairbrush, her eyes widened and her jaw dropped in dumbfounded glory. I will never forget how tight she embraced me that night. I always used to tease Claire for being the emotional one, but this time we were both crying too much to speak.

When our daughter had turned seven Claire bestowed the wooden hairbrush to Laurie, even though I was highly against the idea of having something that meant so much to my wife in the hands of a child that didn’t understand the value of such gift. For the record I was right. It took Laurie about three weeks before she smashed the priceless hairbrush into splinters, because she was pretending to be a “carpenter” like her daddy.

When I heard that our seven year old daughter had destroyed a few decades old family gift like it was a toy, I was so frustrated that I crumpled myself into a ball beside my bed. When Claire opened the bedroom door to console me we had this conversation:

“I tried to tell you! Why did you think that she could handle your hairbrush! Laurie is only seven! When your father made it, it was made for you! He and I only ever wanted it to be for you.”

“I’m sorry, Jim. I’m so sorry!” She nearly screamed the last words as she crumpled into a ball at my side. “I am so stupid. Forgive me. I don’t know what I was thinking! I thought maybe Laurie could appreciate it maybe half as much as I do now, but I was wrong. I am so sorry. It nearly killed me when I watched the smooth wooden designs on the handle be smashed to pieces by our smiling baby girl, but it hurt even worse to watch you in pain like this.”

I tried to wipe my tears away as I put my hands around Claire. While I was hugging her as hard as I could, I leaned over and whispered in her ear: “I doubt this will help the situation at all, but I just want to let you know that I love you so much.”

“It helps a little.” She smirked in between sniffles

“Good.”