(I have long, colourful hair. It goes from dark purple down to lilac, and ends around my waist, so I usually keep it in a braid. While getting coffee with a friend, I notice a mum and her little daughter staring at me. After a while, I have to undo my braid because it’s starting to hurt my head from being too tight. I hear an audible gasp from the little girl, and her mum nudges her to go over to my table.)

Little Girl: *in the fastest, most nervous way I’ve ever heard a kid speak* “Hi! I really like your hair; it’s pretty like a mermaid! My mum said to tell you it’s pretty, and I wanted to ask if it is your real hair!”

Me: *laughing* “It’s my real hair, but it’s coloured in!”

Little Girl: *eyes widening* “YOU CAN DO THAT?!”

(She ran back to her mum, who came up to me to ask me about which hair dye I use, etc. I told her that it was non-permanent, and that there was even a brand that could be washed out immediately,meant for Halloween costumes and such. Now the little girl gets to be a mermaid at her school’s Halloween party.)

When I was really young, my parents had to take me everywhere with them, as we were poor and could only afford childcare whilst both of them were working. Often the childcare role was filled by family.

Once, when I was about three, my dad took me with him to the bank. It was one of those banks where the tellers were out on the floor with you around a little table. I was standing between my dad and the teller when the teller passed gas. I heard it, as I was so short my head was at about the teller’s waist, but my father did not, and the embarrassed teller didn’t say anything about it.

So, as my father had done to me many times before to teach me my manners, although perhaps in a less sassy, exaggerated way, I looked up at her, put my hands on my hips, and said, “What do you say???”

The woman blushed the most vibrant shade of red and quietly said, “Excuse me,” while my father could hardly contain his laughter. It’s a story he can’t recount without laughing to this day.

The day of the 2017 Solar Eclipse, some friends and I carpooled out to our college for a viewing event. Unfortunately, by the time we got there, they had run out of eclipse-viewing glasses. While there were volunteers walking around offering to let people borrow theirs for a few seconds each, I was still a bit upset, because I was hoping to get some as a keepsake for the event.

As I was informing my friends of this setback, a young girl, probably no older than ten, came up and tried to hand me her glasses, having overheard. I tried to decline, but she insisted, saying that she and her two companions could take turns with what they had. The companions didn’t seem bothered at all by the notion of sharing theirs. After a couple rounds of this, I relented and took them, thanking her repeatedly.

The eclipse was unforgettable, but her kind gesture was even more so.

This story is part of the Eclipse roundup! This is the last story in the roundup, but we have plenty of others you might enjoy!

13 Spacey Stories About Aliens And Those Who Believe…

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(A couple with a five- or six-year-old daughter is browsing in my bookstore. After checking out the children’s books for a bit, the girl comes up to my desk.)

Girl: “I like your music. It’s catchy.”

(This may have been the first time the Beethoven String Quartets were described as “catchy”, but you have great taste, little girl!)

(A very young, sweet student comes up to me while the kids are coming in from recess.)

Student: “Ms. [Name], here!” *hands me a very long, slightly damp twig/reed thing*

Me: “Oh, um, thank you, [Student]!”

Student: “I found it in the toilet!”