Sue's Imaginarium

Comparison starts earlier than many parents realise. A child looks at a friend and quietly thinks, “She is better than me.” “He has more than me.” “They are smarter.” “I’m not good enough.” These words may sound small, but they carry heavy feelings. They sit quietly in a child’s heart and shape how they see themselves. Over time, these thoughts can grow into insecurity, fear, and self-doubt. Comparison quietly steals joy. It makes children feel less valuable, less confident, and less secure. A child who once laughed freely may become anxious. A child who once tried new things may begin to hold back. Slowly, they start measuring their worth by appearance, achievements, or approval from others. At Sue’s Imaginarium , we believe children were never meant to compare themselves. They were created to grow, to shine, and to walk confidently in who they are — rooted in faith , not competition. This article explains how faith helps children break free from comparison and how parents can gen...

  Once upon a time—many seasons after Kito returned the extra cowrie shell—his name carried weight in the village. “Let Kito handle it,” people said. “He will do what is right.” Kito was older now, taller, steadier, and trusted with things far more valuable than groundnut cakes. On Market Days, he helped elders measure grain, counted cloth for travelers, and kept records when traders from faraway places arrived with camels and carts. Trust followed him like a shadow. One year, a great caravan came from the dry lands beyond the hills. Their leader, Baraka , wore a long robe and spoke with confidence. He brought salt, metal tools, and bright dyes—goods the village needed badly. The elders gathered. “Kito,” said Elder Ama, “you will help us manage the trade. Count carefully. Be fair.” Kito bowed. “I will.” The market buzzed louder than ever. Deals were struck, baskets were lifted, cowrie shells clicked like rain on clay. By midday, Baraka pulled Kito aside. “You are known for honesty...

Once upon a time, in a lively village where mornings smelled of roasted corn and laughter echoed between mud houses, there lived a child named Kito . Kito was known for two things: his quick feet and his quicker smile. Whenever Market Day arrived, Kito was the first child awake and the last to leave the square. Market Day was not just a day—it was an event. Drums beat from dawn. Women spread bright cloths on wooden tables. Men shouted prices with playful pride. Goats bleated, chickens flapped, and children ran between stalls like excited birds. This particular Market Day felt special. Kito’s mother handed him a small woven basket filled with groundnut cakes and said, “Kito, today you will help me sell. Remember, each cake is two cowrie shells . Not one more, not one less.” Kito nodded eagerly. He liked responsibility. It made him feel grown. “And Kito,” his mother added, kneeling to his height, “promise me you will be honest. Even when no one is watching.” “I promise,” Kito said ...

  Every parent has had that moment. Your child asks a question that catches you off guard. “Why do people say this is okay?” “Why do my friends believe that?” “Why does this feel wrong even though everyone is doing it?” Those moments are not interruptions. They are invitations. They are signs that your child is beginning to think, feel, and question beyond surface-level answers. And what they are really asking for is discernment — the ability to tell what is right, what is wise, and what aligns with truth. Spiritual discernment is not something children magically develop with age. It is something that must be taught, modelled, practised, and nurtured intentionally. When children lack discernment, they follow voices instead of values. When they develop discernment, they learn to pause, reflect, and choose wisely — even when no one is watching. What Spiritual Discernment Really Is Spiritual discernment is the ability to recognise truth, identify wisdom, and sense what ali...

Every future is shaped by decisions. Not just the big, dramatic ones—but the quiet, daily choices we make when no one is watching. In character education, we often focus on teaching skills, knowledge, and achievement, but at the core of a meaningful life is something deeper: character . And character is built one decision at a time. The one decision that can redefine your future is this: the decision to live intentionally —to choose values over convenience, growth over comfort, and integrity over shortcuts. This guide explores how intentional decision-making forms character and how parents, educators, and individuals can cultivate this mindset for long-term transformation. 1. Understanding the Power of One Decision A single decision may seem small in the moment, but it carries direction. Much like steering a ship, even a slight change in course can lead to a completely different destination over time. Character education teaches that: Decisions shape habits Habits shape character ...

Once upon a time, in a bright green valley where the air smelled of flowers and the sky felt close enough to touch, there lived a little sparrow named Pip . Pip was small. Very small. His wings were quick, his feathers were brown and soft, and his voice was light and chirpy. He could hop, flutter, and zip through tiny spaces where bigger birds could never go. But Pip was not happy. Because every single day, high above the valley, an eagle flew. And the eagle was magnificent. Watching from Below The eagle soared across the sky with wings so wide they seemed to stretch from cloud to cloud. When he flew, the wind listened. When he cried out, the mountains echoed. Pip watched from a low branch, his heart sinking. “Why don’t I look like that?” Pip muttered. “Why are my wings so small?” “Why do I have to be… me?” Whenever the eagle flew past, Pip stopped singing. What was the point of his tiny song when the eagle ruled the sky? The Seed of Comparison Soon, Pip began to compar...

In a lively forest not far from a bustling village market lived a clever monkey named Kito . Kito was known for two things: his quick hands and his curious eyes. He noticed everything—especially things that sparkled, shone, or stood out. But more than bananas, more than laughter, more than rest, Kito loved hats . Not just any hats. Bright hats. Tall hats. Feathered hats. Hats with bells. Hats with colours so bold they could wake the sun. Whenever Kito visited the market, his eyes danced from stall to stall. “One hat is nice,” he would say. “But two is better.” And so his collection began. A Hat for Every Mood At first, Kito took only one hat. He wore it proudly, swinging from tree to tree, greeting the birds like a king. The forest animals admired him. “You look very smart,” said the parrot. “That hat suits you,” said the antelope. Kito smiled. The next market day, he returned and found another hat—this one wider, brighter, louder. “Why choose?” Kito thought. “I can have ...