The cars were relentless.
They had turned the road into a one-way and refused to let us pass. 
We were getting late. The delivery had not come in time. My meetings had gone late. I was going to have to walk in empty-handed. 
The drivers were not helping and I was beginning to get mad. 
I cut in. The man didn’t expect me to do that. He fumbled some curses and I screamed back, “what did you expect!”. 

It was fair; he deserved it…

…Till a little voice next to me said, “Mamma, you are not being nice.”

I was so worked up, I had forgotten, he was there. Watching. 

I mumbled some justifications, but he said, “You were being rude.”
There was nothing more to say – except, ”Yes, mamma was being rude. I’ll try not to do that again. I am Sorry!”

Kindness is a lesson that starts at home. Sometimes children teach them best. 

He learns from his brother I imagine. Telecallers have a knack for choosing the most inconvenient times to offer me a loan or a credit that I have no interest in. Sometimes, a ‘No, Thank you!’ doesn’t suffice. They pester. It bugs me but I must not hang up. “He is after all doing his job, mamma.”

Patience is not my forte but for my children, I have to learn to work with most annoying situations, calmly, patiently.

I have to remember. They are there. Watching.

Truly, kindness is a lesson that starts at home. Sometimes children teach them best.