Getting it

After she got up from her nap, my three year old daughter was thirsty. “Mommy, will you get me some water?” she asked, as we were headed out the door to pick up her brother from school. I filled a cup from the pitcher in the fridge, and she watched closely.

“Does our water never run out?”

“No, more comes from the tap.”

“Who gives it to us?”

“The people at the city water department. We pay them for it. But some people don’t have water to drink like we do.”

She walked along beside me in silence, holding her cup. “Why not?”

“Some of them don’t have money to pay for water, and others live in places where there isn’t much water to be found. So then, and this is very sad, they must drink whatever water they can find, sometimes very dirty water. It gives our tummies owies, and some children your age get sick or even die.

She looked down at her cup, clutched it tightly, and began to cry. Her voice wavering, she said, “But Mommy, I don’t want to die.”

“Oh honey, the water in your cup is clean and good. We give you good water; you don’t have to worry about it making you sick. But there are other children who do have to drink bad water. Did you know that one of the things Mommy does is help those children get safe water to drink?”

She stopped crying and considered as I unlocked the car door. Then she whispered something.

“What did you say?”

Still clutching her cup, she repeated, “I think you’re pretty great.”

“I think you’re pretty great, too,” I said as tears stung my eyes.

We drove to the elementary school in silence, until my daughter burst out, “I’m going to help those children.  I’m going to give them my money.”

“Do you mean the pennies from your ladybug bank?”

“Yes!” She nodded vigorously and then settled back with a sigh.

She got it.