Dear Kid,

I, your mother, am a car genius. Yes, moi.

You can stop laughing now.

I am also a do-gooder.

Seriously, stop giggling.

When I went out to my car after work on Friday, there was a woman trying to open the hood of her car. She had a big bottle of windshield wiper fluid next to her on the ground. Using my amazing powers of interpretation, I deduced that she was trying to open the hood to refill the windshield wiper fluid tank.

Since this is one of the few very few things I consider myself to be an expert competent with, I decided to offer to help.

“I’m not exactly great at cars,” I said (the Universe coughed—it sounded like “understatement”) “but I’m happy to try to help.” She looked grateful. The Universe smirked.

I walked over and immediately identified her vehicle as a white car. You’re impressed, right? She had popped the hood but hadn’t found the little lever to actually open it.

I fiddled. I fidoodled. I felt around. I couldn’t find the little lever either.

“You’re so nice to help. But don’t worry, my husband will be off work in an hour or so,” she said.

The Universe guffawed.

I got sneaky and peeked under the hood—and there it was. The little lever thingy doodle.

I scootled it and pop! Open went the hood. Then I even found the prop-y up-y thing to hold up the hood when she couldn’t.

The Universe graciously conceded.

I left her filling the windshield wiper fluid reserve.

She was very happy and grateful.

I felt great.

And I know I am a car expert because I got grease on my thumb.

Hope you get to do a good deed today.

Love, Mom

Dear Kid,

Several days ago, I was grumpy. (Yeah, I get it—barely taller than Snow White’s friends, but I am beardless so let it go.) Since a wise person once wrote that we are responsible for choosing our own happiness (it is amazing how brilliant I can be at times), I decided to follow my own advise and find a little bit of happy.

Sometimes choosing to be happy requires a little bit of help.

I sent a text to your sister asking if there was any possible way she could send me a text to make me smile. Approximately 32 seconds later my phone beeped.

“I have renamed Booker” read the text “He is now…Doug.”

And I grinned from ear to ear.

Each time the grumpiness tried to crawl back that afternoon I thought “Doug” and it kept the grumpy at bay.

Later that evening when I asked Booker how he felt about the name change, he tilted his head, asked to be scratched behind his ears, and suggest a snack might be in order. He didn’t get a snack (or a new name), but he did get a scratch and a snuggle.

Pretty much everyone was happy.

Sometimes it’s important to figure things out for ourselves. To dig in and hammer through a problem. Trying, missing, trying again can be a great way to learn. (Just ask the Little Engine.)

There are times, however, when trying to solve problems on your own just leads to frustration. The “I’m going to stick my head through the concrete wall” kind of frustration. Or worse, the “I. Give. UP!” kind of frustration.

Asking for help is a sometimes difficult and often important skill. It shows tremendous insight, intelligence, and strength of character to be able to say “I can’t do this all on my own.” Especially when the “this” in question is something we think we ought to be able to accomplish just fine thank you very much.

Something to remember as you begin your first semester of college.

Love, Mom