My son taught me more than I had taught him when we went out for milkshakes.
One day, my son Nolan asked for a milkshake while I was overwhelmed by unpaid bills and work stress. We went to O’Malley’s Diner, a place stuck in time, where Nolan ordered his milkshake and immediately noticed a lonely boy sitting by himself. Without hesitation, he walked over, sat beside him, and offered his milkshake.
The moment felt pure and unpretentious—just a simple, silent gesture of kindness. The boy’s mother, who had been struggling with her spouse in the hospital, thanked Nolan. His act of sharing brightened her son’s week.
Later, as we drove home, I couldn’t stop thinking about how freely Nolan gave without concern. That day, Nolan taught me more than I could teach him in years: that sharing what we have can sometimes mean more than having a lot.
The next day, I started small. I smiled more, called my sister, and left a bigger tip at the coffee shop. It wasn’t about being a hero—it was about offering small moments of kindness. Now, every Friday, Nolan and I make it a tradition to share a milkshake, always with two straws, just in case someone else needs one.
Sometimes, even a small gesture can change someone’s day.
