Katie and I drove by two kids who fit this description.
She said aloud, "Oh. Poor kids."
"Yeah. I bet they're cold. I wish I could pick them up and drive them home but I don't know them and kids are not allowed to take rides from grown ups they don't know," I said.
"I hope their moms or their dads make them hot cocoa when they get home," Katie said.
I didn't tell Katie that most likely their parents were at work. I wasn't in the mood to explain to Katie the concept of latch key kids. I felt sorry for those kids, but I also wanted to rush home to my own kid and my own cup of hot cocoa.
I felt a tad selfishly sad at our good fortune: the decision Will and I made for me to work fewer paid hours away from home so I could spend more hours at home with our only daughter. Our one chance. She's growing up so fast, I'd hate to lose this time we have together. We're broke, sure. We can't afford the latest next big thing. But we can hurry home after school and sip cocoa together, something a few extra hours at work just can't buy.