Recently the mega, million dollar, mouse-eared corporation ran a special called “Give a Day Get a Day”. Basically, you and your family can volunteer at a number of local non-profits and you will each receive a free day pass to the most magical day of your life. Did I mention FREE?
Now I don’t really have a desire to spend an entire day waiting in a line full of hundreds of thousands of people all anxious to take a spin on a large, flying elephant. However, my seven-year-old who still believes those gorgeous princesses are real people would be thrilled, and since my dad actually lives part-time in Florida, we could visit him too. Nice.
I read over the volunteering guidelines multiple times. I run the idea by my even cheaper than myself husband. I tell my friends. I am ready to sign-up, and on the first day of sign-ups, I log on and look for an activity the whole family can do to earn our FREE day of amusement in Florida.
The available opportunities are endless. There’s hospital work, Meals on Wheels, river clean-ups, day care positions at shelters, house building, animal loving, smoke prevention instructors, administrative assistants, but nothing quite fitting for a seven-year-old. Bummer.
I continue to scroll down the page, and there it is...Packs for Kids. Children as young as six can help pack small bags of food to give to local school-aged children who don’t have enough to eat over the weekend, and to make it even more appealing, you only have to work a two hour evening slot to earn your free day of amusement. Perfect!
I can’t wait for someone in my house to get up (preferably cheap husband) so I can tell them about the hundreds of dollars I’ve saved planning a sure to be memorable vacation before sunrise. Instead, I get the seven-year-old. Oh well, she’ll do.
The conversation goes like this-
“Hey baby, good morning. Guess what, I just signed us up for a really, super, fun activity that we can do as a family.”
“What is it?” she asks sleepily.
“We are going to go to this warehouse in Asheville and make backpacks of food for kids who don’t have enough to eat on the weekends.”
Blank stare.
“Doesn’t that sound like fun? We are going to help people who don’t have enough to eat.”
“What will we make the backpacks out of?” she asks still staring off.
“Well, we actually don’t make backpacks. We just fill bags for kids to put in their backpacks.”
“Oh,” she says rubbing her eyes.
“What do you think?” I question.
“I don’t know anyone that doesn’t have enough to eat” she replies.
“That’s the great part. We get to help people we don’t know, and we get to do it as a family.”
This isn’t the response I was hoping for so I’m going to have to throw in the truth.
“And for helping these people, we get a free pass for everyone in the family to go to Disney World! Isn’t that awesome?”
No response. What is wrong with this kid? I just said Disney, and it didn’t seem to trigger anything.
“When do we have to help?” she asks.
“It’s next Tuesday night for a couple hours,” I reply.
“I think that’s a school night,” she says while picking at a random string on her pajamas.
“Um, yeah, it is a school night," Why was she thinking about school at a time like this? Disney child, Disney.
“Well, I guess that’s fine, but I don’t really know these people.”
“It’s fine. Dad and I are going too. It’s not like we are going to leave you there alone.”
"Do we have any Lucky Charms?” she yawns out.
Hmmm, if Mickey and friends can't get my daughter excited about helping others, I'm not sure how all of this journey towards gracious giving thing is going to work out.
