A Chocolate Morning

Today is the kind of day chocolate was made for. Too bad I made a vow to go ten days without dessert or candy, 'cause I could sure use some right now.

Hazel was just a super whiner all morning. She wanted me to do everything for her right now. She wanted me to make her eggs, set up her play house, and read her a book all at the same time. It frustrated me to no end that while I was working on something she asked me to do, she was yelling at me for not doing something else she wanted right then. I finally had to threaten to take away every single one of her dress-ups if she didn't stop yelling at me. Luckily for the both of us, we've made it to nap time without having to resort to that.

We made it to the grocery store, where I had the kids in one of those enormous two-seater, pretend-you're-driving-a-car shopping carts, and it's snack time and so it's not completely terrible that Hazel and Jack are both loudly grunting for crackers every fifteen feet or so. But it still annoyed me. Hazel told me I had the "gimmies" because I was putting so much stuff in the cart. Thank you, dear, but that's not exactly what the Bearenstein Bears were trying to say.

Back in the parking lot, I got Hazel out and told her to hop in her carseat. Then I took Jack out and started to load him in. Hazel started whining that she couldn't get her door shut. I looked over and saw an elderly man (veteran, we were at the military commissary) sitting in his car. He couldn't get out until Hazel's door was shut. So I left Jack unbuckled and bounded over there to help Hazel shut her door, which I thought was just open so wide she didn't have the strength to swing it shut. Not quite. It was lodged against the man's car. I closed my eyes and took a deep breath. I loosened it and saw two lovely paint stripes on his car door. I was panicked and stressed and v-e-r-y close to bursting into tears as I hurried back to Jack to buckle him in before he climbed out and fell on the pavement or something. Mentally, I geared up to get yelled at and swap insurance information.

The man stepped out - I was still on the other side of the car with Jack - and I said, "I am so, so sorry." He reached over, touched the marks, said, "Aw, it'll just wipe off," and walked into the grocery store. Nothing more. I was floored. I walked back over to buckle Hazel in and could see that it was not just paint marks; there was a dent in his door. I took in how new and expensive his car looked. I took a few steps backward to look at his bumper. Yep, a Lexus. That was a miracle. For reals, a miracle. Right then and there, I bowed my head and said a prayer of gratitude for that man's mercy. Then I found a scrap of paper in my purse and wrote him a thank you note.

I can't remember the last time I felt so overwhelmed with gratitude for something someone has done for me. Tears were coursing over my cheeks the whole drive home. I just couldn't pull it together. I almost pulled over to wait it out. That could have been so bad. I can't believe he just let it go. That man is an angel to me.