It wasn’t about the money. It was about the intention. I hadn’t given those clothes with price tags in mind—I’d given them with love.
A few days later, my son and his family came to visit. To my surprise, my grandson came running toward me, arms wide, wearing the very clothes I’d picked out. His face was lit with joy.
I smiled, but I noticed the tension between my son and his wife. Later, I learned they’d argued after that day. My son had defended me.
“Kindness matters more than cost,” he’d told her.
As I sat with my grandson, still lost in thought, he tugged on my sleeve.
“Grandma,” he said, “do you like me in your clothes? I love them because you picked them for me.”
My eyes filled with tears.
In that moment, I understood something simple and profound: children don’t see price tags. They see love. They feel effort. To him, those clothes weren’t cheap or expensive—they were special, because they came from me. Continue reading…
