One stressful afternoon, buried in bills and worries, my 4-year-old son tugged on my sleeve and said, “Milkshake?”
It was so simple—but somehow, it was exactly what I needed.
We drove to O’Malley’s Diner. It’s a little worn down, but their milkshakes are magic. Nolan ordered his usual: cherry-vanilla, no whipped cream.
While we waited, I saw a boy sitting alone. Without saying a word, Nolan slid out of his seat, sat beside the boy, and quietly offered to share his milkshake—one straw, two kids.
A moment later, the boy’s mother returned. She looked exhausted, eyes heavy. She smiled at Nolan and softly said, “Thank you. My husband’s in the hospital… it’s been really hard lately.”
Nolan didn’t know the weight of what he’d done. He just sipped, giggled, and swung his legs.
That night, I realized I’m often too caught up in my own world to see when someone else needs kindness. But Nolan did. He saw it.
Now, every Friday, we go for milkshakes. And we always get two straws—just in case someone else needs a little sweetness too. 💖🥤
