a penny for her

I’m overwhelmed by moments of your instinctive kindness, little man. When we stopped for glacé on our walk in Cannes yesterday, you noticed a young woman sitting with a cup and came up to me and said, “Momma, can I have a penny for her cup?”

I’m not sure where this comes from. Intuition, perhaps? I’m sure we’ve talked about how some people are homeless, but your regular encounter with it is through sales of The Contributor, the homeless paper. You’ve not had so many opportunities to see people simply sitting and asking for money.

Whatever compelled you, it was sweet. We got one euro from Daddy, and you plopped it in her plastic cup. She thanked you and kissed your hand.

I gave you a big hug, told you I was proud of you and started to pop little bites of yogurt flavored ice cream into your sister’s screeching yapper. (Argh, Darwin, I’m SO ready for that phase to pass!)

You tapped me and told me she said: “Comment t’appelle.” I explained to you that she said: “Comment appelle tu?” and that she was asking you your name. You exchanged names with Ellen and waved goodbye as we walked on. I was (and am) so proud of your empathy and kindness, my little bug. I hope it stays with you a lifetime.

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