2025 was significant to me because it was a transitional year. It was the year I could afford to worry primarily about myself. There was little external pressure to be anything other than a guy figuring out what he was designed to do. I think this has been my biggest privilege.

I fully stepped into running my animation production company. I moved from Lagos to Abuja. I understood love in a new way. I survived the economic inflation in between. I built frameworks, one of which is the Priority Pyramid. And somewhere inside all that movement, I learned a lot about myself. A lot of the things I started doing to express myself more honestly were things I’d always loved as a child. Even the way I see the world hasn’t changed that much.

Memory Lane

I remember something clearly from when I was about 7 years old. I can estimate the time frame because I was in primary 4 and I had just switched schools. My new school had participated in one of those Children’s Day events where multiple schools were in attendance at one big park. Loads of games, bouncing castles, kids everywhere…that kind of vibe.

I was a playful child. I still am, honestly, even though adulthood has tried to dull that part of me. But even then, I had a dislike for certain games. The top of the list was dancing around the chair. Needless to say, when that game was being played, I opted out of participating.

Each school had at least 2 teachers accompany its students. The guardians were needed for coordination and safety, but I think there was supposed to be a grand prize for the school that won the most games, and I’m only guessing this because it was pretty competitive.

A few games later, I had made up my mind to participate in something, and they annouced for a new game – Ballon blowing. The game description seemed straightforward: blow the balloon until it pops. I didn’t even know if I could do it. But kids like trying things. I raised my hand. “Aunty, I. Aunty.” The teacher noticed I hadn’t played yet and called me forward. Two students per school. We stood near the stage. The game master brought out a basin full of balloons and told everyone to grab.

Chaos! Children scrambling from every direction. Pushing. Shoving. I stood there, confused, getting bumped backwards, wondering why everyone was “rushing”. And I remember my exact thought: If they wanted all of us to play, there would be enough balloons. So I waited patiently for the crowd to thin.

Maybe the prize just wasn’t that serious, or I was naive, but my first instinct was to be patient. The crowd thinned. I stepped closer, expecting to find a balloon…nothing! The basin was empty.

My heart sank. I looked around and saw kids holding balloons, others confused like me. I waited, hoping there would be another round. Instead, the announcer said, “All of you who have balloons, come to the front. If you don’t, go to the back.” I wasn’t going to play…omo! The anyhowness in Nigeria didn’t start today!

I walked back to my school group, already thinking, we’ll get them in the next game. But then the teacher stopped me. “Why are you back already?”

“I didn’t get a balloon. They weren’t enough for everybody.” She said, “Didn’t other people get? Life is not like that. You have to take your own, or you’ll be left behind.” I understood her point. But my stomach sank deeper than it did when I saw the empty basin.I wasn’t expecting praise. But I wasn’t expecting to be scolded either.

All I could think was: whose balloon would I have had to take just to participate? And my answer was none. There would be more games. Or there wouldn’t. Either way, I was fine.

Reflections

That moment stayed with me. Not because I think my childhood perspective was morally superior. But because I realised I’ve always been this way.

I prefer working with people, not against them. I dislike unnecessary competition. I naturally let people go first. I assume there should be enough for everyone. And if there isn’t, I don’t believe taking from someone else is the answer.

As an adult, I’ve tried many times to go against that compass. Every time I enter systems built on urgency and scarcity, I feel that same anxious churn in my belly. 2025 brought me back to alignment. The world doesn’t end because you don’t grab a balloon. And honestly, I probably would have lost anyway. The balloon blowing looked hard.

Protect the Children

As I get older, I notice how much adult insecurity gets passed down to children. That’s dangerous. Children learn fear early; they inherit limits they don’t need. They absorb urgency before they understand why they’re running.

It is important that we build environments where children are safe. Safe to dream. Safe to explore. Safe to collaborate. Safe to grow without being rushed into hardness.

The purest version of who we are is who we were as kids. It’s no surprise that Jesus said anyone who wants to enter the Kingdom of God must be like a child. That curiosity, that openness, that courage, that freedom..that’s what I found again in 2025, and it’s what I’m carrying into 2026.

Protect your inner child. Protect children. Build a world where they’re safe. That’s how we secure a future that’s actually worth inheriting.

Happy New Year

All in all, 2025 was a foundational year for me. A year to begin alignment. A year of remembering. What’s left now is execution.

I’m excited. I hope you are too. The kind of excitement that deepens you. The kind that helps you appreciate how you got here. The kind that makes you gentler with yourself and more generous with the people around you. The kind that reminds you we’re all running the same long, hard, beautiful race — together.

Have an amazing 2026.