“To be your father,” Dad often says, “I have to be a chef, a doctor, a nurse and many other things. Had I known it, I would have studied medicine as a young man.”

Last year, I suffered from a variety of disorders. I tried all kinds of drugs, but to no avail. Concerned about my wellbeing, Grandad gave Dad two ancient medical books written in classical Chinese. He hoped his son would study them and come up with some prescriptions for his granddaughter. When he was younger, Grandad had consulted the manuals a lot and even cured himself of some common complaints with remedies from them.

To boost my overall fitness, Dad tackled the two books, whose ancient language differs very much from present-day Chinese. In winter vacation he produced a prescription, drawing on his research on the handbooks. With several herbs he concocted a potion for me. After I took it, I started to have bellyaches, to my annoyance.

“It is OK, girl,” Dad said reassuringly. “The medicine will do you good in the long run.”

The bellyaches persisted, though. So frequently did the bellyaches bother me that I ended up with disturbed sleep at night. Therefore, I refused to take his mixture any more.

Some days later, Dad explained apologetically to me that he had got the weight conversion wrong. In ancient times, one qian (a Chinese weight unit) equalled 50 grams. Today, however, one qian is 30. That was why my stomach hurt. OMG!

After some adjustment, Dad cajoled me into resuming my intake of the potion. I no longer had tummy aches this time. As time went by, my appetite became stronger. When the new term started, Dad commented my complexion had improved a lot, thanks to his miracle tonic.

To be honest, my father does a lot for me. He does all the housework, cooks tasty nutritious meals, and picks me up wherever I might be.

If I could, I would award Dad a new title, Mr Omnipotent.