She Didn’t Judge. She Helped. Imagine That!

Last week, something unexpected happened.

Not the kind of unexpected that involves my teenager planting 5 mugs, 2 glasses and a teaspoon in the kitchen. Or the orange-flavoured cat springboarding off my back at 2am.

No, this was something good. Something quietly powerful.

As some of you already know, my son, who has both autism and ADHD, took a tumble at the park last week. A full-blown, off-the-spinning-rope-thingy, grazes-and-panic kind of tumble.

The kind where the world stops for a moment. And all you can hear is the scream of your child as your own heart drums somewhere up in your throat.

I was, at the time, about 50 feet away. Of course I was. I'm normally a hovering Hector kind of Mum, but on this occasion, I was trying to play it cool and give him a little freedom, a little space to explore. But as I found out, it only takes a second, doesn’t it?

I stumbled, half-tripped, half-sprinted my way back over to him. But I wasn’t the first on the scene. Instead, a stranger, a fellow mum, got there moments before me, like a first responder at a crash.

And to my relief, she didn’t back away when she saw his distress. She didn’t flinch when he screamed or shy away at the grazes and lashing out limbs.

She crouched down.

She sat with him.

She held space in the middle of chaos.

And then she stayed. Not because she had to. Not because she could 'fix' anything. But because she chose to.

Yes, she chose compassion over judgment. Solidarity over staring.

Kindness over commentary.

And later, when my own adrenaline had finally simmered to a slow boil, it hit me just how generous that moment really was.

She didn’t know my son. She didn’t know me. But she stepped in anyway, quietly and kindly, with no fanfare and no performative "look at me helping" energy. And that in itself got me thinking... Why did this feel like such a rare and remarkable moment, when really, it should just be normal?

See, I’m the “We teach kindness in this house” kind of mum. The one who nags about please and thank yous. The one who encourages my kids to show appreciation, to apologise when they mess up (which they do, because they're children), and to understand how their actions ripple outwards.

And I know I’m not the only one. I see so many parents, online, in the wild, mid-tantrum in Aldi, doing exactly the same. Actively teaching their kids to be better. To be thoughtful. To be kind.

We are doing the work.

So, where did it all go so wrong? Because somewhere along the line, too many kids who were taught the same basic rules on ‘How Not to Be a Dooshbag’ have grown up into adults who seemingly radiate pleasure from tearing others down.

Quick to criticise. Quick to judge a scream in the park, a meltdown in Tesco, or a mum doing her absolute best on two hours of sleep and a chocolate bar.

We’re supposed to know better, us adults. We say things like “Kindness matters”, and “We're in this together”, and “Be kind because you never know what someone's going through,” usually in swirly fonts over sunset backgrounds.

But where is it when it actually counts? Where is the kindness when someone’s vulnerable? When they’re struggling?

When their child is screaming and they’re trying not to burst into tears as they queue up for coffee, for sanity and hope in a cup.

Too often, we choose judgment over empathy.

Embarrassment over encouragement.

Exclusion over understanding.

And it bothers me. Not in a 'the world is doomed' kind of way, because it’s not. I still believe there are more decent folk than there are cruel ones. I see them every day.

But I still can’t help wondering: what goes so wrong in some people’s lives that they feel entitled to stamp over someone else’s wellbeing?

Is it the way they were brought up?

People often blame their parents. The fact that their childhood was tough and demoralising. And yes, sometimes that’s valid.

But honestly? My mum wasn’t warm. She wasn’t the “let’s bake cookies and talk about our feelings” type. I didn’t grow up with endless praise or unconditional emotional support. No, most of the time, I was either being picked apart or paraded when she needed some kind of validation..

And yet here I am, raising kids who know they’re loved. Who understand that kindness isn’t a one-off act - it’s a way of being. A daily choice. A muscle you strengthen. And that's not in some pretence that I'm perfect, because I'm not. I'm just helping these little people find a good place in the world.

So, to the woman in the park, thank you for choosing kindness. For showing up. For being what more people should be. You reminded me that the world isn’t broken. It's just a bit bruised.

And that kindness, real, human, inconvenient, unfiltered kindness, is still very much alive.

P.S. If this post made you feel just a little bit more human, you can find more of that in my book. Grab a copy over on Amazon, or if you'd prefer a signed edition, just drop me a message.

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 "No act of kindness, no matter how small, is ever wasted."

Aesop