I was wide awake. I just couldn’t seem to find a comfortable enough position to sleep more than ten minutes at a time. I tossed and turned. Nothing seemed to work. Time passed during the wee hours of Saturday morning in fits and spurts. After hours which felt like years, I felt the bed shift as hubby got up for a pre-dawn run. Morning people… grumble, grumble…
Slightly after dawn, (I can’t tell you the specific time as the clock and I were no longer speaking, but it was early) I heard the sound of Kiddo moving around in his room across the hall. It didn’t matter if that I hadn’t gotten a good night’s sleep. Morning could no longer be denied. I exited the bedroom with a single mission in mind. Find coffee now.
Immediately Kiddo’s door swung open. “Mom! Mom! I need help!”
“With what?” I asked, although it probably sounded more along the lines of “gah! wha?”
“With my museum. Can you help me build it?”
I rubbed my eyes. It didn’t help the view. His LEGOs had turned the floor into a land field, and there, at the other side, was a partially built construction about the size of two loaves of bread. It would take hours to complete his ‘vision’. Run, my body urged me. Run, while there is still time. “Sorry kid, Mommy needs her coffee.”
I made my way downstairs. Kiddo followed. “I’m starving. Cereal please!”
At least he was trying to be polite. “Here you go,” I said, pouring him a bowl. Or did I say bah!?
“Then can you help me with the museum?”
“Mommy needs some time to wake up.” Darn you coffee pot, why are you still empty?
Thump. It was a sound that meant LT was not only up, but jettisoning toys from his bed. I could go upstairs and collect him at once or spend the rest of the day attempting to coordinate a clean-up process with a stubborn three-year-old. It was my decision.
“Milk!” LT greeted me while flinging another animal friend.
Sigh… I carried him downstairs, placing him near his brother.
“Movie please!” they demanded in stereo. My tummy grumbled, the coffee pot remained dry, and the kids were on a fast track for early naps.
Ding. Ding. My phone chimed. You’ve got to be kidding! Who in the world is texting me at this hour?
“Am bringing home a bagel for you.” The unsolicited text was from the hubby extraordinaire and savior of offspring.
No act of kindness no matter how small is ever wasted – Aesop
I love that man every day, but some days even more so than others. Fortified, Kiddo and I completed his museum. It only took two hours. A new record! Huzzah.
Fast forward a couple of days. I saw another message from the hubby. Someone had placed a handwritten note on his windshield. “You’ve been RAK’d,” it said. Beneath the note lay twenty dollars. There were no strings attached and no name on the note. It was exactly what it said it was. a RAK, also known as a Random Act of Kindness.
Carry out a random act of kindness, with no expectation of reward, safe in the knowledge that one day someone might do the same for you – Princess Diana of Wales
Out of all the cars in the parking lot that morning, some individual had chosen to be generous with my family. We will never be able to pay that person back, so I guess we have no choice. We will have to pay it forward.
Thank you, note-leaver, whoever you are. I hope that your kindness is returned as swiftly as was my hubby’s.