Carpooling home with two toddlers and our infant packed together in the back seat, I was already mentally scrolling through our afternoon's impending activities: lunch, cleaning up, potty time, diapering, nursing, convincing the kids to nap, playground visit, etc.

The more I thought about it, the more time-consuming it seemed. Therefore, when the light with the longest wait time along our route turned red just as we reached it, I sighed, and glanced out my window.

It was then that I saw him next to us. Weather-beaten and scraggly, he was holding a piece of torn cardboard with a scrawled request along the lines of: "No job. Need food."

My knee-jerk reaction was to make sure the kids were safely locked inside. As I sat there, though, two articles I had read recently popped into mind. One was about a church which kept care packages for panhandlers ready in their vehicles. Another was by one of our own church members who had voluntarily lived on the streets. It surprised him that the people who treated him the worst were not the other homeless, but rather the "normal" passers-by.

The light was about to change. Inspired, I grabbed the only food I had on hand, snacks for the keiki, and asked if he would like them.

"Thank you! Thank you!" he gushed as if he had just been treated to dinner at Alan Wong's; he was that happy (or hungry).

The light turned green. I headed off, my to-do list now forgotten.

Before becoming a parent, I had led a number of community service projects. After our wee ones came along, however, it was hard to imagine volunteering with I-Climb-Onto-Everything daughter and I-Put-Everything-in-My-Mouth son. Scaling back, I committed to simpler activities like filling a shoebox with toys for a needy child, donating infant items to young mothers, and writing letters to the children we sponsor overseas.

It was difficult to tell, though, if our kids understood. After the aforementioned encounter, for example, they were inscrutably silent.

Weeks later, though, our daughter suddenly piped up, "Like giving the food to the (homeless) man?"

Now she regularly mentions "buying food and toys" for the needy.

She probably doesn't truly comprehend sacrificial giving, since sharing toys with her baby brother is still onerous.

However, her heart is moving in the right direction, and this reminds me that our keiki are never too young to be taught the importance of caring for others.

Freelance writer Monica Quock Chan lives in Honolulu with her husband and children.