One stressful afternoon, I was feeling overwhelmed with bills and work. My four-year-old son, Nolan, gently pulled on my sleeve and said, “Milkshake?” It was such a small thing, but it snapped me out of my worries. I smiled and said, “Let’s go.”
We went to O’Malley’s Diner — it’s old and a bit worn down, but they have the best milkshakes. Nolan happily ordered his favorite: cherry-vanilla, no whipped cream. While we waited, I noticed a boy sitting alone. Without saying anything, Nolan got up, sat next to the boy, and shared his milkshake with him — one straw, two kids.
A few moments later, the boy’s mom came back. She thanked Nolan and said her husband was in the hospital, and things were really hard for them. Nolan’s small, quiet act of kindness made that old diner feel special and full of warmth.
On the drive home, Nolan looked out the window, daydreaming, not knowing how much his kindness had meant. That night, I realized that I often don’t notice other people’s struggles because I’m too focused on my own. Since then, every Friday, we go out for milkshakes — always with two straws, just in case someone else needs a little kindness too.