We found ourselves in the grocery store, a quintessential “let’s rush in and out” kind of trip that has become all too common. It’s those moments when there’s no time to pause and explain why a homeless person is sitting on the sidewalk asking for food or to pick up the dirty sticker that my two-year-old has been lugging around for days and has now dropped in the parking lot.
Why the rush? There were no appointments or commitments awaiting us; we were just hurrying because that’s how life feels these days—constantly in a rush.
Inside the store, I was focused on selecting deli meats—ham, turkey, salami. Important choices, right? Yet, all I could hear were my kids calling out, “Mom, mom, moooommm.” I pretended to be absorbed in my task, assuming they were only going to ask for something. It’s a routine that never fails; a trip to the store usually involves them wanting something frivolous.
Eventually, I could no longer ignore them. “What?!” I snapped, my tone sharper than intended. My thoughts were consumed by my own agenda, and I felt annoyed that they were interrupting.
A moment of silence followed, until my four-year-old, Max, piped up, “Can we smell the roses?”
At that moment, I thought, “Seriously? You want to smell roses right now? I have a list of things to buy, and then I’ll have to go home and put everything away and cook dinner!”
Yet, instead of snapping back, I found myself asking, “Why?”
If only I had known then how profound his answer would be. If I had been truly present, I might have recognized the wonder in his innocent request. Instead, I was distracted.
Max replied, “Because I’ve never smelled a rose before.”
In that instant, I realized how often we overlook the small wonders that could be brand new experiences for our children.
With a newfound perspective, I embraced the “mom of the year” mentality. I decided to turn this moment into a valuable lesson. After assuring my toddler, Ava, that we would pick up her sticker after shopping, we made our way to the flowers, inhaling the sweet scent of those roses together.
Afterward, we returned to the deli section, where we bought a modest selection of meats, cheese, and buns to share with the homeless man I had seen earlier outside. I explained to my kids that not everyone has a home or food to eat, emphasizing the importance of gratitude and helping others whenever we can.
Life is filled with unexpected moments that offer opportunities for learning and connection—those fleeting chances to teach or experience something new. What may seem trivial to us can hold great significance for someone else.
As we left the store, I felt a sense of fulfillment. I had taken the time to teach my children valuable lessons, and I had acknowledged that to Ava, her sticker was worth picking up. We had all shared a special moment.
But just as we were heading to the car, a vehicle drove by. I watched as that once “too dirty” sticker flung onto its tire and away, while the homeless man had vanished.
Max then said, “Now that man won’t get to eat tonight.” Suddenly, my earlier priorities—the deli meats, my shopping list, my own life—seemed insignificant. I understood that perhaps nothing is so urgent that it can’t wait for a moment to appreciate the beauty around us, whether that’s the chance to smell a rose for the first time or to reflect on a missed opportunity to help someone in need.
In the end, a simple question from my child in the grocery store reshaped my perspective on parenting, reminding me to slow down and cherish the little things.
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