My kids and I like to play the High/Low Game. I ask them several times a week to tell me their high point and low point from the day. They like to ask me the same.

Backing out of the driveway on our way to the grocery store, I pulled up to the mailbox.

Maddi quickly asked, "Can I please get the mail, Mom?"

I had to bite my tongue. Letting Maddi get the mail would be, at a minimum, a two-minute process. She would first need to unbuckle from her car seat, next physically get out of the truck to actually reach the mail box, then she would hand me the mail through my window piece by piece before climbing back into her seat and buckling .If she needed help to buckle again, it would add another good twenty seconds.

I let her get the mail.

Tonight when I asked my children their highs and lows from the day, Maddi volunteered to go first.

"My low was falling down at the park."

"And your high?" I asked.

"My high was getting the mail," she told me.

Suddenly the extra 120 seconds were worth it. Something completely routine for me was a highlight for her. She felt big. She felt helpful. She felt important.

My high? Contributing to helping her feel that way.

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