(It is the day before Father’s Day and I am taking my four-year-old daughter shopping.)

Me: “[Daughter], tomorrow is Father’s Day and we need to buy Daddy a present. What do you want to get for him?”

Daughter: “Um… A newspaper.”

Me: “You want to buy Daddy a newspaper for Father’s Day? Remember that we are getting him something to show that we love him.”

Daughter: “Yes, a newspaper that he loves.”

Me: *instantly a bit worried about her understanding of the word “newspaper,” as we never read them at home* “Do you know what a newspaper is?”

Daughter: “It’s… Um… It’s a book.”

Me: “Well, yes, it’s kind of like a book.”

(She is distracted by something else, and I decide to see where this is going. Thirty minutes later, we are in a kiosk, and she has been pointing to various gossip magazines trying to decide which one to buy. I try to gently guide her towards the actual newspapers to show her what they are, but suddenly she finds the perfect one.)

Daughter: *delighted gasp* “Mommy! Dinosaurs! It’s a dinosaur newspaper! We can buy this one. Can we buy this one?”

Me: “That is a very nice dinosaur magazine; do you want to buy it for Daddy?”

Daughter: “Yes, because he loves dinosaurs, and I do, too.”

Me: “Well, okay, then. Let’s buy it.”

Daughter: *giggles and bounces all the way to the cashier*

(And that’s how he got a kid’s magazine about dinosaurs as a Father’s Day gift this year. He was delighted, and spent time reading it to her the next day.)

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(My company has these ridiculous remote kiosks with four buttons on them, each of a different smiley face ranging from happy to sad, green to red, respectively. Attached to them are signs that read, “How is your day going?” They track responses in our company portal. My wife takes our newborn daughter to a wellness visit a couple miles from my office and takes our five-year-old daughter with her. On the way home, she stops by my office so I can show off the new baby to my coworkers. As we wait in the lobby to sign them in, my older daughter sees the kiosk and, having seen them before on her visits to Daddy’s work, knows what it is about.)

Daughter: “Daddy, can I press the button?”

Me: “Sure, honey!”

(She presses the bright green, happiest smiley face.)

Daughter: “Daddy, can I press it again for [Baby Sister]?”

Me: “I think that’s fine, yes.”

(She presses the bright red, saddest frown face.)

Daughter: *to me* “Because she had a doctor’s appointment today.”

(It’s Halloween and I’ve just answered the door to find a young child, no more than four, dressed in white with blood splatters and with their face painted white. The child’s mum is dressed up with some scary makeup, and the dad has painted bones down his arm like a skeleton. Halloween has only become a celebration in recent years in Australia, so this is a pretty impressive effort.)

Me: *squatting down to the kid’s level* “Hey there! Aw, look at you!”

Kid: *with hand actions* “RAWR.”

Me: “Woah, scary!”

Kid: *looking really worried* “I’m not really scary!”

Me: “Oh, good! Would you like some candy?”

Kid: “Yes, please.”

Me: “You can take extra, too.”

Kid: “THANK YOU!”

(This little kid made my day! They were so cute!)

Every fall, we run a donation drive to benefit Toys for Tots, an organization run by the United States Marine Corps which collects new, unwrapped toys, and donates them to children whose families can’t afford them for the holidays.

Today, I had a family come through my line to buy a parakeet: a father, his daughter, around 12 or 13 years old, and his son, around 9 or 10 years old. After ringing up the bird, I asked the father if he’d be interested in donating to Toys for Tots. He turned to his daughter and said, “It’s your money; it’s up to you.” She said, “Yes. It’s a nice thing to do.”

This year, we have stuffed dogs, cats, and bunnies available for donation. The bunny is very popular, and when people ask to donate a specific toy, that’s almost always the one they choose. I asked the girl if she cared which toy she donated, and sure enough, she chose the snuggly pink rabbit.

Each toy has a name. The dog is Chance, the cat is Lucky, and the bunny is Hope. So, I told this sweet young girl who chose to spend $5 of her own money, “Thank you; you’re giving a child Hope,” and her face lit up. I won’t soon forget this young girl or her generosity.

(I met my husband when we both worked for a grocery store. We’ve only been dating a few months at this point, and I like to pick on him about things. A new cashier has just started, and he is around our age, but he seems young and nerdy. I think he’s cute in his awkwardness, like a child, and I mention it to my then-boyfriend.)

Boyfriend: “How can you say that to me?”

Me: “What do you mean? Do you want me to lie?”

Boyfriend: “Well, no, but you don’t have to tell me, either!”

(Just then, a mother with her young son dressed in a Superman costume walks by. A coworker comes up to me.)

Coworker: “Did you see him? Wasn’t he just precious?”

Me: *eyes light up* “I know! He was so adorable!”

(My boyfriend glowers at me and turns a dark shade of red before I burst out laughing.)

Me: “We’re talking about the little boy in a costume! Did you not see him?”

Boyfriend: “Oh, no, I didn’t. I thought you were talking about the other guy, still.”

(He finally saw how funny that was and chuckled about it. I still like to pick on him about the day he was jealous of a five-year-old.)