(I’m handing out inner tubes for a popular water slide. Several young men come up; one of them has a tattoo on his side that makes it look like his skin is peeling away to reveal mechanical inner workings. Shortly after they get in line, two little girls come up. They stare at the tattooed man for a few moments, and then one taps him on the leg.)

Girl #1: “Are you sure you can go in the water?”

Tattooed Man: “Uh… I’m sure I’ll be fine.”

Girl #1: “But what about that?” *points to his tattoo* “My mommy says electric stuff can’t get wet.”

Tattooed Man: *grinning* “Oh, don’t worry. I’m an underwater explorer robot. I’m built for that stuff.”

Girl #2: “So you won’t break? Even if you get water all inside you?”

Tattooed Man: “Nope!”

Girls #1 & #2: *gaping at him* “Wow…”

(I’m often mocked for being a furry. In towns such as mine and the neighboring county where people don’t normally wear cat ears, I get quite a bit of ridicule. This adds to my already low self-esteem, and normally leaves me feeling rather glum.  My sister and I are walking through a bargain store; I’ve spent all day getting strange looks at the ears on top of my head, when we walk by a little boy and his mother.)

Boy: *whispering* “Mom!, I like her ears.”

Parent: *whispering* “Well, tell her that, not me.”

Boy: *looks at me with a goofy smile* “I like your ears!” *hugs me* “They make you look very beautiful!”

(I couldn’t help but smile for the rest of the day.)

(It’s a fairly dull night shift, not much activity. The shop is dead at the moment and I don’t have much to do. A young boy comes in who looks about eight or nine, and walks up to me at the till.)

Kid: “Um, excuse me. Do you have any snack-y things?”

Me: “Sure, we’ve got some stuff in the lunch fridge here and some more on the other side.”

Kid: “Thanks!”

(He wanders off for a while and comes back around with a few things. He starts inspecting the coffee machine.)

Kid: “How much is coffee?”

Me: “It’s [price].”

Kid: “Okay, what does the man outside like?”

(I suddenly realize that he’s buying food for the homeless guy who usually sits near the store.)

Me: “Oh, it’s a white regular with sugar.”

Kid: “One of them, please!”

Me: “That’s very nice of you.”

Kid: “Well, I thought that since I have so much stuff I should give to people who need it more than me.”

(He paid for the food and gave it to the guy outside. And I was smiling faintly about it for the rest of the night.)

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(I live in a small subdivision with mostly working class families. We all try to watch out for everyone else’s kids when they are playing together outside. I hop in my car to go down to the local convenience store and pass my kid playing with a group of about ten other kids a couple blocks away.)

My Kid: “Bye! Have a good night at work!”

Me: “I’m just going to the store. I’ll be right back.”

(All the other kids start jokingly calling out orders. I drive to the store and buy what I needed. As I’m being rung up I see a box of candies that are 15 cents each. I buy the whole box. When the cashier gave me an odd look, I just say:)

Me: “I’m about to make it rain.”

(Driving back I pass the same group of kids, slow down, and just start flinging candy out the window.)

Me: “It’s a parade!”

Kids: “YAAAAAY!” *start scrambling for the candies*

Me: *out the window as I drive off* “EVERYBODY SHARE WITH EVERYONE ELSE!”

(I get home and sit on my porch. A few minutes later the kids stampede past me.)

Me: “Where are you guys going?”

Kid: *out of breath from running* “You said share, so we’re going to go split it with the kids up the hill!”

(They ran about eight blocks to share their loot with kids they weren’t even playing with at the time who would never have known about it if they hadn’t shared. I have never been more proud of those little hooligans. It cost me less than twenty, bucks, but the feeling I get when I think about it… Can’t put a price-tag on that.)

(I am a single parent with a pretty limited income. On a rare occasion, my son and I will go out to eat. This time we go to a tiny Asian place I’d seen on my way to work each day. My son is four and already a pretty decent reader. This is the sort of place where orders are placed at the counter and then brought to your table. I look at the menu on the wall and ask my son, who also seemed to be reading the board, what he’d like.)

Me: “So, what are you going to have?”

Son: “Hmmm… how… about…. some…. food…”

(I burst out laughing as did the lovely women working the counter.)

Cashier: “No worries, little man, we will bring you food.”

(For the next hour, these ladies brought him small dishes of almost everything they made.)

Them: “Try this. You’ll like this.”

Them: “What did you think? Did you like it? Try this now. You’ll like it.”

(We were sent home with a huge “doggie bag” and only charged for one meal. We’ve gone to that place at about once a month ever since. When he is home from college, it is our tradition to eat there his first night back. Some of the same women still work there. They still call him “little man,” even though he is now 6’3″ and most of them barely push the 5′ mark. If he ever gets married, I’ll have them cater the wedding.)