It started with an ordinary question — the kind of thing parents ask in passing, maybe while tidying up the kitchen or packing backpacks the night before.

“Does everyone in your class bring a snack for break time?”

My daughter paused.
Then said quietly, “No… not everyone does.”

I stopped what I was doing.

There was something in her tone — gentle, matter-of-fact, but underneath, something more. I looked up and asked, “So what do the kids without snacks do while the others are eating?”

She looked at me and said, “They work on homework.”

That didn’t sit right with me. Not one bit.

“Imagine if you didn’t have a snack,” I said, “and while all your friends were enjoying theirs, you had to sit there working. How would that feel?”

She didn’t hesitate.
“I wouldn’t like that.”

Neither would I.

It was a small moment — just a short exchange between a parent and child. But sometimes, that’s all it takes. A spark of empathy. A shift in perspective. And the decision to act.

The next morning, I packed a little more than usual. Instead of just one snack for my daughter, I brought enough for her whole class. Crackers, fruit, granola bars — nothing fancy, but enough for everyone to enjoy a bite together. No one would sit snack-less while others munched.

And while I was at it, I thought of my younger son’s preschool. So I brought snacks for them too.

When I dropped them off and saw those little faces light up — some surprised, some shy, all smiling — something changed in me.

It wasn’t just about snacks anymore.
It was about dignity. Inclusion. That feeling of being seen and cared for.

So I made a quiet promise to myself:
I’ll do this every week.

Every Thursday, I now show up with enough snacks for every student in my daughter’s class — and my son’s, too. Just a simple gesture to make sure that no child feels left out during something as small (but important) as snack time.

Because sometimes, the littlest things — like a shared bite — remind us that we all belong.

And kindness?
Well… it doesn’t always look like a grand gesture.
Sometimes, it looks like a granola bar.