Yesterday was a difficult day. Not a terrible day. Nothing in particular happened to make it a bad day. It was just challenging.

When I realized at 5pm that we were completely out of dog food and we'd have to head back out into the heat, I almost cried. Shawn's out of town for work (lucky butt) so I couldn't ring him and ask him to pick up Wolfgang's food on the way home from the office. I had to be a damn grownup and go to the pet store.

Grady had already changed into his pyjamas and didn't want to change back into clothes, and I'd reached the level of "do whatever you want as long as it's safe" survival mode. Grady went to the pet store wearing glow-in-the-dark skeleton pyjamas is what I'm saying. Oh, and a Santa hat. Because flair.

We got to the pet store and the guy working did a double take as we walked through the door. Grady looked amazing, obviously, and I was a hot mess express hoisting Poppy's car seat in one arm and trying not to drop my wallet, keys, or phone with the other.

The guy was young. Maybe early twenties. And he was alone. He could have stayed behind the counter and rung up our bag of dog food and I would not have complained. He would have done his job and we would have gone on our merry way. But he did not stay behind the counter. He jumped up when he saw us struggle. He complimented Grady's outfit. He helped us find our specific brand and flavour of dog food. He carried it to the counter for me, and after we paid, he carried it out to my car. He was kind and went way above and beyond what you'd expect from the dude who works at the local pet store. And he didn't have to! There was no manager there, watching him to make sure he treated the customers exceptionally well. There were no young gals there who would be impressed by the cute pet store clerk who was nice to the crazy suburban mom with the quirky kid and screamy baby. He had no audience but he was still kind and helpful.

I want to find out who his parents are and make them teach me their ways.