“I WANT TO BUY A DAD,” said the BLACK GIRL to Big Shaq. What Happened Next Is Unbelievable…
On an ordinary Wednesday afternoon in south London, a chance encounter at a bustling community center sparked one of the most heartwarming stories of the year—one that has since inspired countless people across the globe. British entertainer and former basketball star Big Shaq, whose real name is Michael Dapaah, volunteers most weeks at local youth programs, but nothing could have prepared him for the small, hopeful voice that shifted his perspective on family, loss, and community forever.
It was a typical afterschool, and the recreation hall overflowed with the chatter of children. Big Shaq, towering, charismatic, and disarmingly approachable, moved among the students, offering high-fives and encouragement. At a table tucked away from the main bustle sat eight-year-old Layla Johnson, coloring quietly. Her dark curls framed watchful eyes, and her manner was quiet compared to the general swirl of activity. When Big Shaq noticed her sitting off to the side, he knelt down, asking if she wanted to join some group games. Layla looked up, hesitated, then softly said, almost matter-of-factly, “I want to buy a dad.”
Taken aback, Big Shaq gently asked her what she meant. “I see other kids have dads. They play football with them, pick them up after school, make jokes. I want one too,” Layla explained. “My mum tries, but she works a lot. I thought if I save my pocket money… maybe I could buy a dad, just for me. Is that allowed?” What followed left the surrounding adults—with Big Shaq among them—deeply moved.
Instead of brushing her off or laughing at the naive question, Big Shaq responded with kindness. He knelt down, meeting her gaze. “You can’t buy a dad. But do you know something amazing? You’re not alone. Lots of people grow up with one parent, or even none. Family isn’t just about who lives in your house. Sometimes, family is who cares about you, who shows up, who believes in you.”
Word of their conversation quickly spread through the center, touching both staff and parents, many of whom immediately recognized the hurt and hope behind Layla’s words. Social worker Grace Mensah, who witnessed the encounter, shared, “It’s not unusual for children who feel left out or different to express big feelings in surprising ways. What’s special is how Big Shaq turned it into a moment about love and community, not pity.”
But Big Shaq didn’t stop at words. He reached out to Layla’s mother, Erica Johnson, to learn more about their situation. Erica explained how Layla’s father had left when she was a toddler, and that working two jobs left little time for bonding or outings. “I know she feels something’s missing,” Erica shared, “but I’m just doing my best to keep us afloat.”
Inspired and determined to help, Big Shaq made a bold decision. The next Saturday, he invited Layla and her mother to a community “Family Day” he organized—complete with games, a talent show, and a barbecue. But more importantly, he arranged for a mentorship program, connecting Layla and other children like her with positive male role models from the area. These volunteers—ranging from local businessmen and teachers to firefighters—committed to spending time with the children, playing sports, helping with homework, and simply listening.
Layla was introduced to Mr. Clifford, a retired teacher known for his kind disposition and wisdom. At their first meeting, Clifford and Layla played chess and talked about dreams for the future. Soon, Layla was opening up, laughing more, and even tutoring younger children at the center—her confidence blooming.
The story exploded on social media when someone shared a video of Big Shaq and Layla from Family Day, the two singing and dancing together. The caption read, “You can’t buy a dad, but you CAN have a whole community.” The video went viral. Messages of support poured in from around the world, and soon, celebrities, politicians, and ordinary people offered to volunteer or donate to “Layla’s Dads,” the new mentorship initiative.
For Layla, the greatest outcome wasn’t the newfound media attention, but the growing circle of friends, mentors, and neighbors who showed her she mattered—and that she was never alone. “I didn’t get a dad from a shop,” she said shyly to a TV reporter weeks later, “but I got lots of new friends and people who care about me. That’s better.”
For Big Shaq, the experience reinforced a simple truth. “What Layla said hit me—how many kids are quietly wishing for the things some of us take for granted? If you can show up, even just for one kid, you’re making a difference.”
Today, more than forty children participate in the mentorship network. Layla’s question has led to a movement, proof that sometimes the smallest voices ask the biggest questions—and that, with a little kindness, communities can come together to help answer them.
