I walk into the living room to find our youngest daughter at the computer. Without looking up, she asks me for help. I approach the screen and see that she's on the checkout page for a donation to the Red Cross.
I place my hand on her shoulder and smile. "What's up?"
My attention is drawn to a small pile of green bills sitting next to her. She has cash in hand from some extra chores she’s been doing around the house lately. She moves the pointer across the screen, evidently reading the text closely to make sure she understands everything.
“We’ll need to use your account and I’ll just give the money to you,” she says. Without waiting for a response, she selects “Wherever it’s most needed” as the donation option.
Her sister is standing nearby now watching our exchange. There's nothing left for me to do but agree to the terms, so I fork over my Paypal approval and kiss her on the forehead. I squeeze her shoulder and tell her I’m proud of her desire to help people. She nods ever so slightly, then hops up and goes about her business.
I walk away feeling a sense of awe. At nine years old, my daughter empathizes with the concerns of other people in a way that I struggle to apprehend even after years of careful cultivation. I don't know what exactly accounts for the blossoming of social conscience -- why it develops so much more fully in some people than others -- but I certainly wish that I did.