Written by: Cyndi MacMillan

My girl and I sat in a small café, 
she giggled as three year olds do,
Eating a treat without delay,
But she paused to tell me thank you.
A woman turned and looked our way,
Stunned at the manners my tot knew.

She griped, most youngsters are so rude,
Then questioned my child’s attitude.

I said, she hears thank you all day,
for each off note from her kazoo,
for sticky hugs and slam ballet, 
for the dozen pictures she drew,
for including me in her play, 
for even tasting one thing new.

What we display, children exude,
So I show her my gratitude.

The stranger blinked, shifted her tray,
And her lip she began to chew,
Then she laughed at all I’d conveyed,
Nodding at my strong point of view,
I added, so nightly we pray
since God likes to hear thank you, too.

Thanks, she quipped, I was in a mood...
I appreciate this interlude. 

*A real event, happened just last week