When it comes to food, we have some pint-sized picky eaters in our house. They're often hearing from LuAnn or I that they need to be content that they have food every meal, even if it's not something they like. I remind them that while they complain about their potatoes, there are kids all over the world who are going to bed hungry... again. Today, we got confirmation that the message is getting through. Sort of.
Lizzie's preschool class has been gathering food for an elderly lady, so before we left this afternoon, she took a couple cans to donate from our pantry. Noticing what she was happily providing, I asked Lizzie if she thought the lady would like the green beans.
"Yeah, probably..." was her first reaction as she hurried to get the cans into her backpack. But as we left the room, she expounded upon her initial enthusiasm (to herself in a very matter of fact manner):
"She should just be happy that she has food."
As LuAnn and I overheard from the next room, we humorously wondered how we've warped our kids in so many ways... I'm afraid the compassion runs so deep in that one that is has yet to fully surface.
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