The other morning I woke up with some stomach bug. As I was running for the toilet to throw up, our three and a half year old comes to me and says, “Mommy?”

Me: “Yes baby?” . I think I thought he’d ask me what’s wrong, why I was throwing up, or something like that. But instead he asked…

A.: “Can I help you?”

Very calmly. Very sweetly. He was asking if he could help me.

Me: “Oh love, thank you. How about a glass of water?”

A.: “Ok, one glass of water comin’ up!” And in his spiderman costume (which I am supposed to call “uniform” now!) along with this spiderman gloves, A. got me a cup of water.

In thinking about it, this is what touched me —

He ASKED if I needed help.

I could have asked A. to get me a cup of water and he would’ve done it. He does kind things every day and I think “acts of service” is his love language. He’ll help me take the trash out (he’s been doing that since he was 18 months old!), get a toy for C. to play with, or grab something out of the frig to help me cook. But here…here was my little baby now almost four years old ASKING me “Can I help you?” He noticed I could use some help. He believed he had something to offer… that he could do something to make my misery a little lighter.

Later when I stopped throwing up, I had several thoughts running through my head. “Ahhhh, he is growing up!” I am having a bit of a hard time with A. about to turn four. I know, I know…just wait til he’s off to college! But somehow going from three to four is the biggest jump we’ve had yet. When I think of a three year old, I still think “toddler.” When I think of a four year old, I think “little boy.” My baby is becoming a little boy. And there’s a tinge of nostalgia in this for me.

My next thought… So often I can question how we are doing as parents, if we are making the “right” choices, if we are instilling the values that matter to us — like kindness, empathy, community. But today, when A. asked if he could help, I relaxed and thought, “Ok, so maybe we are doing an ok job in parenting.” In the busyness of our days — amidst the normal stuff of daily living, the times I’ve lost my temper, the times A. has thrown temper tantrums, I figure we must be doing something alright. He’s learning empathy. He believes that he can do something to accompany another person in their suffering.  Realizing this, I exhaled and softly smiled.