⏱ ~5 min reading
For his seventh birthday, Bohdan was given something he had been dreaming about since the fall: a wristwatch.
Not a child's watch — with a cartoon character. Real. Brown leather strap. Round dial with Arabic numerals. Two hands — one longer, one shorter. And another — the thinnest — a seconds hand, which ran in a circle quickly, as if it couldn't stop.
Bogdan put the watch on his left hand. Next to his dad, like a real man. Dad showed him how to read the time: the long hand means minutes, the short hand means hours.
"It's half past two now," Dad explained. "See? The short hand points to 2, but it's already halfway between 2 and 3. And the long hand points to 6. That means 2:30 p.m..".
Bogdan nodded seriously. He learned to tell the time in a day—he was a smart boy.
But something strange happened.
From then on, Bohdan looked at the clock. Everything. Time. Every five minutes.
I woke up in the morning - look at the clock. 7:15.
Ate breakfast — look. 7:30.
He's getting dressed - look. 7:42.
Waiting for dad to finish his coffee — look. 7:50.
In kindergarten (Bogdan was still in the preparatory group) - he looked at the clock every ten minutes. Playing with cubes - to see how long it was until lunch. Drawing - to see if a walk was coming soon.
They're eating lunch - look how long it's until bedtime.
Sleep — Bohdan looked at the clock to see how much time was left until the ascent. (Sometimes he couldn't fall asleep out of curiosity).
Depending on this, the evening became longer or shorter. The most terrible moments were when Bohdan wanted the time to come «already.» Already home. Already cartoons. Already dinner.
One Saturday morning, Bohdan was sitting on the porch of his house. He was waiting for his dad to return from the market — he promised to bring Bohdan a new pencil.
The clock showed 9:30.
Bogdan looked again. 9:32.
Once again. 9:33.
Once again. 9:33 and a half (more precisely, 9:33 and 30 seconds, as the second hand showed).
It seemed to Bogdan that the clock was broken. That time had stopped. That dad would never return.
When dad arrived — at 10:15 — Bohdan was almost in despair.
“Dad,” he said as soon as Dad stepped onto the porch, “why is time so slow?”
Dad was surprised. He put down his backpack from the market and sat down on the step next to him.
— What do you mean?
"I've been waiting for you for forty-five minutes. It feels like an eternity. And then—I'm playing games in the yard—and the clock flies by.".
Dad smiled. He was silent for a long time, looking at the boy. Then he asked:
— Why do you think so?
"I don't know. Maybe the clock is magical? Maybe it slows down and speeds up?"
Dad shook his head.
"No, son. It's a regular watch. Quartz. It runs smoothly—second by second, without exception.".
"Then what?"
— It's you. You slow it down or speed it up — with your attention.
— How is that?
Dad looked at the sun, at the first spring leaf on the branch. Then at his son.
— You know, there's a secret. Time flies the fastest when you're busy with something important. Something that excites you. Drawing. Playing. Talking to a friend. Because then you don't look at the clock - you just live. And when you wait - you get bored, just wait - time crawls. Because you're looking all the time.
Bogdan thought for a moment.
— What if I stop watching?
— Try it. Sit down and draw. Or read. Or do something important. Don't look at the clock for an hour. And then look.
— I'll check!
Bogdan ran to his room. He took a sketchbook. Pencils. He sat down at the table. He put the watch in front of him — not on his wrist, but on the table. And he covered it with a book. So he promised himself: not to look.
He decided to draw a dragon. A big one, with a fiery tail, and blue wings.
I drew for a long time. Then I realized that the dragon needed a fortress. I drew a fortress - big, with towers, with flags. A red flag. A yellow flag. A green flag.
Then — he thought — the dragon and the fortress need a knight. Because who will fight a dragon? He drew a knight. In silver armor. With a sword. On a white horse.
Bogdan was completely immersed. He didn't remember the clock. He didn't remember lunch. He didn't even remember what he wanted to drink.
— Bogdan, let's have dinner!
Mom's voice broke the magic. Bogdan raised his head, blinked his eyes. He was surprised - as if he had woken up from a beautiful dream.
— Is it lunch already?
"Yes, son. Go wash your hands.".
Bogdan looked at the clock on the wall above the bed. On the nightstand. On his hands—he reminded himself that there should be a clock there. He took the book off his clock on the table.
12:47.
Three hours!
Bohdan's eyes were round, like two "o's".
He ran into the kitchen. Dad was sitting at the table waiting for dinner.
"Dad! Dad, look!"
— What, son?
"I've been drawing for three hours! I didn't even notice!"
Dad smiled as only he knew how to smile—gently, with subtle joy.
— Did you look at the clock?
"No! I hid it under a book!"
"You see. Time flew by because you were alive, son.".
Bohdan nodded. Something inside him lit up—the kind that sometimes happens when you understand something very important.
From that day on, Bohdan looked at his watch less often. Because he knew: a real watch is not the hands. It's your busyness that matters.
When he was busy, time flew by. The day seemed full. Bohdan would go to bed in the evening with the feeling of a well-lived, full day.
As he waited, time passed. The day seemed empty.
And Bogdan wanted full days.
So he started finding things to do. To draw. To build with blocks. To learn new words. To help his mother. To play with friends. To read books — he started before school.
He wore the watch on his wrist as a memento of the day his father had revealed the secret to him. But he looked at it much less often. He looked at life—it was more interesting there.
✨ Time flies the fastest when you're busy with something important ✨