Ariana is only three, but sometimes, she says things that make me stop in my tracks.
She had been talking about donating her hair for weeks. Ever since she saw a video of a little girl without hair, she kept reminding me, “Mommy, I wanna share my hair.” I thought maybe she’d forget, but she didn’t.
So today, we finally did it.
She sat in the salon chair, her tiny legs swinging, beaming with excitement. The first snip came, and I watched her thick brown curls fall into the stylist’s hands. My heart swelled with pride—until I saw the look on her face.
At first, she smiled at her reflection, tilting her head side to side. But then her little eyebrows scrunched together. She turned to me, eyes wide, and asked a question I never expected.
“Mommy, when do I get to see the girl wear my hair?”
My stomach dropped.
I knelt beside her, holding her little hand, and tried to find the right words. “Well, sweetie, they don’t just take your hair and put it on someone’s head like a hat. They use lots of hair like yours to make a wig for a kid who needs it.”
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Ariana nodded, her lip jutting out. She thought for a moment, then asked, “So how will I know she got it?”
I glanced at the stylist, who offered me a kind smile but no answers. The truth was, we wouldn’t know. We wouldn’t get a letter, a picture—nothing. Ariana’s gift would go to someone in need, but it would be anonymous.
That wasn’t enough for my three-year-old.
“We can ask the lady to tell us, right?” she pressed. “I wanna make sure the girl is happy.”
I swallowed the lump in my throat. “Sweetheart, we won’t know exactly who gets it, but I promise, you made someone really, really happy.”
She frowned. “But how do you know?”
I hesitated.
Then the stylist, bless her heart, knelt down and said, “Because I’ve seen it before. Kids like you give their hair, and one day, a little girl who doesn’t have hair gets to feel special again. And I bet when she sees her new hair, she’ll smile so big, just like you.”
Ariana’s face brightened at that. “Really?”
“Really,” the stylist nodded.
That seemed to settle her for the moment, and soon, she was giggling as the stylist evened out the cut. By the time we left the salon, Ariana was back to her usual bubbly self, proudly showing off her “big girl” haircut.
But the moment stuck with me.
That night, as I tucked her into bed, she grabbed my hand. “Mommy?”
“Yeah, baby?”
“I wanna give more things. Not just my hair.”
I smiled, brushing a hand over her now short, soft strands. “Like what, sweetheart?”
She thought for a second. “Maybe my toys? My pink bunny. The one I don’t sleep with no more.”
Something warm spread through my chest. “I think that’s a wonderful idea.”
“Okay. But…” She yawned. “Can I see the kid who gets my bunny?”
I kissed her forehead. “I’ll see what I can do.”
The next morning, I sat with my coffee, scrolling through local donation centers. Most wouldn’t be able to connect us to specific children, just like with the hair donation. But then I found a small community shelter that had a program where kids could donate toys and even meet some of the children who would receive them.
I called right away.
The woman on the phone was warm and excited, telling me they had a little event coming up—a day where kids in need could pick out donated toys, and donor families were welcome to join in and help.
When I told Ariana, she practically bounced with excitement.
“Mommy! That way I can make sure the kid is happy!”
I smiled, hugging her. “That’s right, baby.”
A few days later, we packed a small box with toys she chose herself—her pink bunny, a few dolls, and a puzzle she said was “too easy now.” We arrived at the shelter, and as we stepped inside, Ariana squeezed my hand.
There were kids her age, some even younger, eagerly looking through the toys. One little girl, maybe four, had big brown eyes and curly hair tied in small pigtails. Ariana spotted her and whispered, “Mommy, can I give her my bunny?”
I nodded. “Of course.”
She marched right up and held out the stuffed animal. “Here. You can have it.”
The little girl hesitated, glancing up at her mom, who nodded with teary eyes. Slowly, she reached out, taking the bunny in her small hands.
Ariana beamed. “Do you like it?”
The girl hugged the bunny tight and nodded.
Ariana turned to me, grinning. “Mommy, I got to see her be happy.”
I swallowed the lump in my throat and nodded. “Yes, you did, baby.”
The two girls ended up playing together for a while, and when it was time to leave, Ariana turned to me with determination in her eyes.
“Mommy, I wanna do this again.”
And in that moment, I realized—kindness isn’t just something we teach our kids. Sometimes, they teach us, too.
If this story touched you, please like and share. You never know who might be inspired to give a little kindness today. ❤️