It Was Just A Card

It's mid-morning and the rest of it is tightly scheduled. I have just enough time to get from a to b to c, then to pick up my half-day Pre-Kindergartner. I coax the two littlest ones out the door and leave behind the card that catches my eye.

We back out of the driveway and head down the road, me on a mission, they along for the ride. About a half mile down the road the three-year-old whimpers from behind, "I forgot my birthday card."

Oh, he remembered. That power rangers card that he carries around everywhere because the characters speak at the push of a button.

I look through the rear view mirror, "I'm sorry we forgot it, honey. It will be safe for you at home."

"Nooo. Turn around, mom," he whimpers.

I contemplate all that I have to accomplish. I don't want to turn around. I don't have ten or even five extra minutes. It's a card, after all. Just a card.

I glance through the rear view mirror once again to witness the concern in his eyes and through them I see his little heart.

I sigh deep to slow my momentum and begin to shuffle around tasks in my head, re-figuring  those time-allotted puzzle pieces.

I spot a driveway ahead and hang a left. I turn around to go get that card. Not because I'm such a softy or because I cater to my children's beckon call or because this is always how I respond. But because at the end of the day, out of everything that I had accomplished, I realize that my biggest accomplishment will always be in the ways I slowed down enough to cultivate the heart of a child.

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