MY CLOCK IT DAD; EVERY PARENT NEEDS TO WATCH THIS… #storytelling #story #clockit
Dad, I want that iPhone, not this one, the latest one. All right, clock it. Daddy, that pink bag I showed you yesterday? Clock it. Dad, I don’t like this car again. Clock it. I am so excited about these finds. We really outdid ourselves today. That was my life. Anything I wanted, I got. No questions, no delay, no limits.
People used to say I was lucky. I thought so, too. Until one day, when Clock It stopped working. Every parent needs to hear this story, because sometimes what looks like love is actually something else. And if you don’t pay attention early, you might not be able to fix it later. This is a circle of African tails, where African wisdom lives, and every story has a lesson.
My father never said no to me, and that was the problem. That was how Princess used to describe her life. And to be honest, from the outside, it really looked like a dream. The first thing people noticed about Princess was not even her beauty, it was her presence. She walked like someone who had never been denied anything in her life, because she hadn’t.
Her uniform was always neat, but not just neat, but expensive. Her shoes, always the latest. Her bag, something most girls had only seen online. Even the way she held her phone, like it was nothing special, when everybody else knew it cost more than their school fees. And every morning, without fail, a black luxury car would pull up in front of the school gate.
The driver would step down, open the door, and Princess would step out like she owned not just the school, but the road leading to it. Some girls admired her, some envied her, some just watched quietly trying to understand how one person could have so much. But the real story was not Princess, it was her father, Mr. Johnson.
Mr. Johnson was the kind of man people respected without asking questions. Calm, well-dressed, always composed. He wasn’t loud, but his presence spoke money. Real money. The kind of money that didn’t argue. The kind that just solved things. If Princess asked for something, she didn’t wait, she didn’t beg, she didn’t explain.
She simply said it. “Dad, I want a new phone.” Mr. Johnson didn’t even look up from his tablet. “How soon?” “Today.” He smiled slightly. “Say less. Clock it.” That was their thing. Clock it. Two words, simple but powerful. It meant it’s already done. Don’t worry about it. You don’t need to stress. And Princess loved it.
Sometimes, she would even smile before he finished saying it because she already knew. Whatever she wanted, she would get it. One morning, as she stepped out of the car, her friend rushed up to her. “Princess, is that the new iPhone?” Princess barely looked at her. “Yeah.” “You just got it?” She shrugged. “I told my dad I wanted it.
” “And he just bought it like that?” Princess adjusted her hair slightly and said casually, “I said I wanted it. He clocked it.” They laughed, but not because it was funny, because it was unbelievable. Inside the classroom, it wasn’t much different. Princess didn’t behave like other students. She didn’t raise her hand, she didn’t ask questions, she didn’t wait to be corrected.
“Princess, sit properly,” the teacher said one day. Princess didn’t move. Instead, she looked at the teacher slowly, like she was the one being questioned. I’m fine like this. The class went quiet. The teacher paused, took a breath. Princess, I’m talking to you. Princess rolled her eyes slightly. I heard you. That was the first time the teacher noticed it clearly.
Not just confidence, not just boldness, something else. Disrespect. After class, the teacher reported it. It wasn’t even anger, just concern. She’s a bright girl, but her attitude. The call was made and later that afternoon, Mr. Johnson arrived. He didn’t rush, didn’t panic, didn’t shout. He walked in like a man who already knew how things would end.
The teacher explained everything calmly. The attitude, the response, the behavior. Mr. Johnson listened, nodded slightly, then reached into his pocket, pulled out his checkbook. The teacher frowned. Sir, it’s not about money. He smiled politely. She’s just a child. She needs discipline. She’ll grow. He signed something, closed the checkbook, stood up.
Thank you for your concern. Outside, Princess was already waiting, scrolling through her phone unbothered. He walked up to her. Everything sorted? She didn’t even ask what happened. She just nodded. Okay. As they got into the car, he looked at her briefly. You good? She leaned back comfortably. Yeah. Then after a pause, she added casually, I want that pink bag I showed you yesterday. Mr. Johnson smiled.
Consider it done. Clock it. And just like that, everything moved on. But something small had already started, something quiet, something nobody paid attention to. Because as the car drove away, Princess didn’t say thank you. And inside the classroom, the teacher sat there for a moment feeling like something had just been missed.
Not a lesson, not a rule, something deeper. Because sometimes when you remove “no” from a child’s life, you don’t just give them comfort. You take away something they don’t even know they need. And Princess, she was just getting started. At first, nobody noticed it. Not because it wasn’t there, but because it didn’t look dangerous yet.
It started with small things. The kind of things people usually laugh off. “Princess, can I borrow your notes?” one girl asked during break. Princess didn’t even look up. “Why?” “I missed class yesterday.” Princess flipped a page slowly, then said, “I don’t like lending my things.” The girl nodded awkwardly. “Okay.” Then Princess added casually, “But if you need help, I can just tell my dad to sort something for you. Just clock it.
” The girl didn’t even know what to say. At the beginning, it sounded generous, but if you listened carefully, it wasn’t help. It was control. Princess didn’t just have things, she had power, and she knew it. At the mall one weekend, she went out with two of her friends. They walked into a high-end store.
Bright lights, clean floors, everything arranged perfectly. A shop attendant approached them politely. “Good afternoon. How can I help you?” Princess didn’t answer. She walked straight past her, picked up a bag, turned it over, looked at the price, then dropped it back carelessly. Her friend whispered, “That’s one is expensive, oh.” Princess shrugged.
“It’s not that serious.” The attendant came closer again, still calm. “Would you like to try something else?” Princess looked at her this time, slowly, from head to toe, then said, “You’re talking too much.” The air changed. Her friends went quiet. The attendant paused, still trying to remain professional. I’m just trying to assist you.
Princess stepped closer. Did I ask for your help? Her friends exchanged glances, half uncomfortable, half impressed, because this was not the princess they met before. This one was different, sharper, colder. One of them laughed awkwardly. Princess, leave her now. Princess turned to her friend. Why? Then added, If I want anything here, I’ll just tell my dad.
She snapped her fingers lightly. Clock it. They laughed again, but this time it didn’t feel light. Later that week, something happened in school. Something that couldn’t just be ignored. There was a girl in her class, quiet, always kept to herself, didn’t talk much, didn’t belong to any group. That day, the girl accidentally spilled water on Princess’s desk.
It wasn’t intentional. Her hand just slipped. I’m so sorry, she said quickly, trying to clean it. Princess stood up slowly, looked at the water, then at the girl. Are you serious? I didn’t mean Before she could finish, Princess pushed the bottle off the desk. It hit the floor. Water everywhere. Now you’ve done it properly. The class froze. Nobody moved.
Nobody spoke. The girl stood there, embarrassed, almost shaking. I said I’m sorry. Princess laughed slightly. That kind of laugh that doesn’t carry humor, only pride. You think sorry fixes things? She leaned closer. Or should I call my dad to fix it? The teacher walked in just then, and everything stopped.
But not really, because what had already happened stayed. That afternoon, the report went in again, but this time it wasn’t small. Princess was called to the office, and once again, Mr. Johnson showed up. Same calm walk, same composed face, same quiet confidence. The principal didn’t waste time. This is becoming a pattern. Mr. Johnson nodded slowly.
She’s still a child. She humiliated another student. She needs correction, not protection. Mr. Johnson leaned back slightly. Children make mistakes. The principal’s voice dropped. Sir, you are not helping her. For the first time, there was a pause. Just a small one, but then it passed. Mr. Johnson stood up. We’ll handle it.
Outside, Princess was already on her phone, laughing at something. He walked up to her. Let’s go. She didn’t even ask what happened. She just stood up, followed him. Inside the car, silence sat between them for a few seconds. Then Princess spoke. I want to go to the mall. Mr. Johnson glanced at her. Now? Yes.
He nodded once. Okay. Then she added without looking at him, and I want that bag, the expensive one. He didn’t hesitate. All right. She leaned back comfortably, then said, almost like an instruction, I said I want it today. Clock it. There was something different in the way she said it. Not playful, not soft, commanding.
Mr. Johnson smiled slightly. Done. And just like that, the moment passed. But something deeper was growing, because what used to be love was now becoming something else, something heavier, something louder. And the most dangerous part, nobody was stopping it. Not the school, not the friends, and definitely not the one person who should have.
It didn’t happen in one big moment. It built up quietly, like something waiting for the right time to explode. By now, Princess was no longer just that rich girl. She had a reputation. Not the kind people admired, the kind people avoided. In school, people spoke about her in low voices. Just leave her. She’ll use her dad.
Don’t get involved. Even her friends, if you could still call them that, were not really her friends anymore. They stayed because of what she had, not who she was. And Princess, she didn’t notice. Or maybe she didn’t care. Until the day everything changed. It was a Saturday, a high-end event, the kind where important people gathered.
Business owners, influencers, families with real influence. Mr. Johnson had been invited, and of course, Princess came with him. She stepped out of the car like always, confident, untouchable, like the world would adjust for her. Inside, everything was calm. Soft music, people greeting each other, waiters moving around quietly.
At first, nothing felt different until it did. There was a woman, older, well-respected, the kind of person people didn’t joke with. Princess didn’t know her, but she spoke to her anyway, the way she spoke to everyone. “Excuse me,” the woman said politely, as Princess brushed past her. Princess didn’t stop. The woman turned.
“Young lady, I’m talking to you.” Princess paused, turned slowly, looked at her. “Yes?” The tone, the attitude, the slight irritation in her voice, it was enough. “Is that how you respond when someone speaks to you?” the woman asked calmly. Princess laughed lightly. “I didn’t know we were having a conversation.
” “If you had turned.” The woman didn’t react immediately. She just watched her, then said quietly, “Young girl, respect is not bought.” Princess tilted her head slightly, then replied, “Good thing I don’t need to buy it.” That was it. The room shifted. Not loudly, but enough. Someone had already started recording.
And before anyone could control it, the moment had escaped the room. By evening, it was everywhere. Phones, messages, social media. Rich girl insults respected woman. Arrogance of money. Bad parenting. And for the first time, Mr. Johnson couldn’t control the narrative. Calls came in. Messages. Voices he respected. Voices he couldn’t ignore.
“This is serious. You need to address this. This is not a small matter.” He sat there, phone in his hand, reading everything. For the first time, there was no solution in front of him. No quick fix. No quiet check. Just reality. Princess was in her room, scrolling, watching the same videos, reading the comments.
Some defending her, most not. But even then, her face didn’t show fear. It showed irritation. Later that night, Mr. Johnson knocked on her door. “Come in.” she said. He entered slowly, closed the door behind him. For a moment, neither of them spoke. Then he said softly, “What happened today?” Princess shrugged.
“She was talking to me somehow.” He nodded slightly, trying to stay calm. You embarrassed someone. She rolled her eyes. It’s not that deep. He took a breath, then said the only thing he had always said, the only thing he knew how to say. Don’t worry. I’ll sort it. A pause, then softly, clock it. And that was it. Something snapped. Stop saying that.
Silence. Mr. Johnson froze. Princess stood up slowly, but this time there was no pride, no attitude, just something else. Something that had been building for a long time. You think everything is clock it. Her voice wasn’t loud, but it was heavy. You think money fixes everything. He opened his mouth to speak, but nothing came out.
She stepped closer, tears forming, but not falling yet. You think buying things means you’re a good father. That one landed. He blinked once. Then she said it, the truth, the one thing she had never said before. You were never there. Silence, deep, heavy, unavoidable. You just replaced yourself with money. Her voice cracked slightly now.
I didn’t need all those things. A tear slipped down. I needed you. Mr. Johnson stood there, still, like the ground had just shifted under him. Because for the first time, he wasn’t being told a problem. He was being shown one. And this time, there was nothing to clock, no solution, no quick fix, just truth. And sometimes, truth is the one thing money cannot touch.
The house didn’t change. Everything was still there. The same marble floors, the same white decor, the same expensive silence. But something inside it had shifted. For the first time in a long time, there was no music playing from Princess’s room, no loud laughter, no sound of her talking on the phone. Just silence. Mr. Johnson noticed it immediately.
Not because the house was ever noisy, but because this silence felt different. He walked past her door once, then again, stopped, looked at it, almost knocked, but he didn’t. Because for the first time, he didn’t know what to say. Inside the room, Princess sat on her bed. Her phone was beside her, not in her hand, beside her.
That alone was new. The same girl who couldn’t go 5 minutes without scrolling now just sat there, quiet. She had watched the videos again, not with irritation this time, but with something else, something closer to realization. Because now she could hear it. Not just what she said, but how she sounded. And for the first time, she didn’t like it.
Downstairs, Mr. Johnson sat in the living room. No laptop, no phone, just sitting, thinking. Every moment started replaying, not just the recent ones, the old ones, too. The first time she asked for something, the way she smiled, the way he felt. The first time he said it, “Clock it.
” It felt good then, like he was doing something right, like he was giving her everything she deserved. But now, that same word felt heavy. Because suddenly, he could see it clearly. He didn’t raise her, he responded to her. Every request, every demand, every moment. He showed up with things, but not with himself. He leaned back slowly, closed his eyes, and for the first time, he didn’t feel powerful. He felt absent.
Later that evening, he stood up, walked slowly to her door. This time, he knocked. Come in. Her voice was softer, not the same. He opened the door, stepped inside, closed it gently behind him. For a moment, they just looked at each other. No phones, no distractions, no quick escape, just them. He took a step forward, then stopped.
“I,” he started, then paused. Because this wasn’t business. This wasn’t something he could control. He tried again, softer this time. “Can we talk?” Princess didn’t answer immediately. She just watched him. Then he added quietly, “No money, no clock it, just me and you.” That line sat in the room. Princess looked down for a second, then back at him.
And for the first time, she saw him differently. Not as the man who fixes everything, not as the man who provides, but as just her father. She shifted slightly on the bed, made space. “Okay.” He sat down, not too close, not too far. And for a moment, neither of them spoke. Because sometimes, the hardest part is not fixing things, it’s starting again.
Minutes passed, then Princess spoke slowly. “Do you remember when I was younger?” He nodded. “Of course.” She shook her head slightly. “No. I mean really younger.” He stayed quiet, listening. “I used to wait for you. That sentence landed quietly, but deep. Every time you said you are coming back early.” She swallowed slightly.
“I would sit near the door. He didn’t move, but most times,” she paused, “you didn’t come.” Silence. “You would just send something. A small laugh, but not a happy one. A toy, clothes, anything.” She looked at him now directly. I stopped waiting. That was it. That was the moment. Not loud, not dramatic, but final. Because in that simple sentence, everything was explained. Mr.
Johnson looked at her, really looked. And for the first time, he saw the gap. Not in her attitude, not in her behavior, but in her experience. All the moments he thought he covered with money, all the times he thought she’ll understand, she didn’t. She just adapted. Slowly, he nodded. “I’m sorry.” Not loud, not defensive, just honest.
Princess didn’t respond immediately because sorry doesn’t fix everything, but it starts something. She leaned back slightly, then said quietly, “Dad.” He looked at her. This time, a small pause. “Don’t clock it.” Her voice softened. “Just stay.” And that was it. No shouting, no drama, just truth. Because sometimes, the most important thing a person can give you is not what they have, it’s who they are.
And sometimes, you don’t realize that until it’s almost too late. Mr. Johnson thought he was doing the best for his daughter. He thought love meant she would never lack anything. She would never struggle. She would always have what she wants. But what he didn’t realize was this. A child can have everything and still feel like they have nothing.
Princess didn’t become who she was overnight. She became a result of what she was given and what she wasn’t. Because when you remove boundaries, when you replace time with money, when you answer every emotional need with a transaction, you don’t raise a child, you program one. And sometimes, by the time you realize it, you are not correcting behavior anymore, you are repairing damage.
But here’s the part many people don’t talk about. It wasn’t too late, not completely, because in that quiet moment, when Mr. Johnson chose to sit down, not as a provider, but as a father, something small began again. Not perfect, not easy, but real, because real love is not loud. It doesn’t always give. It doesn’t always say yes. Sometimes, real love says no.
Sometimes, real love corrects. Sometimes, real love stays even when it’s uncomfortable. And sometimes, the most powerful thing a parent can see is not clock it, but I’m here. So, now, let me ask you. Is giving a child everything really love, or is love the things money cannot buy? Who do you think was really at fault, Mr.
Johnson or Princess? And if you had the chance, would you raise your child the same way? Let’s talk. Every story carries a lesson. And if this one touched you in any way, let it guide your heart and inspire your journey. I hope you enjoyed this African folk tale. If you did, please subscribe to this channel for more amazing, life-changing stories.
Don’t forget to like, share, and drop a comment. And if you want more, the next story is already waiting for you on your screen. Thank you for watching. I appreciate you. See you in the next video.
