I Don’t Have Enough Money for Meals’ Mom Tells Her Kid, The Unexpected Took Place The Next Day

Eve was heartbroken when she realized she couldn’t afford a simple dinner for her son’s ninth birthday. She had thought she would find a way to make him something other than potatoes, but she was unable to do so.

How many different meals can you prepare with mashed potatoes, butter, and toast? There are many of them. Eve learned the hard way. She had lost her third temporary job this month, and neither the restaurant nor the bank had much to offer. Potatoes were the cheapest food she could purchase, so she experimented with numerous ways to prepare them. They were certain to grow tired of it, no matter how many new things she tried to make with it.

She didn’t expect her son to appear the next morning with breakfast, let alone in a food truck.

All week, spine potatoes. Can’t we go out to dinner for a burger and some ice cream, Mom? It is all I desire for my birthday.

Eve’s eight-year-old flung his little arms over her shoulders and stared at her with puppy eyes. How could she say no when he requested in such a sweet way? She wished she could give him what he desired, if only for that one night.

Her hands were tied. Satisfying him would consume everything they had left to manage while she looked for a new job. In her heart, she desired to throw Dylan the most extravagant birthday party imaginable, complete with balloons, lighting, a bouncy castle, and a gigantic delectable cake topped with eight magnificent candles.

But reality couldn’t afford any of it. After being sacked from the third temporary job in two months and making the past two obligations, there wasn’t enough money left, not even for a burger and ice cream at the diner.

But how would she explain it to the child? He was too young to comprehend.

“I’m so sorry, darling. I don’t have enough money for meals,” Eve lamented.

Dylan’s tone abruptly changed when he observed tears welling up in his mother’s eyes. He had seen her struggle to make ends meet and couldn’t bear the thought of hurting her. In his little mind, he realized that his mother couldn’t afford to give him what he desired.

He wanted to make her happy. “Mom, that potato salad looks delicious. Can I have some more?” he inquired enthusiastically.

It saddened her that she was powerless to protect both of them, but she was relieved that her son understood. The mother and son dozed and ate a little supper that afternoon.

Dylan’s eyelashes twitched as he considered something else while his mother slept. He cautiously withdrew a blue parcel hidden between books from his tiny bookshelf. His mother had no idea, but he had amassed a small fortune from the lunch money she had given him over the years.

He counted. “My, an envelope!” Dylan’s eyes sparkled. “I’m sure we can come up with anything for 28 dollars.”

With a clear strategy in mind, he carried the envelope and snuck out of the house. He walked along the street, his attention fixed on one thing. He became depressed after walking for a time without finding what he was seeking in the customary location. He continued walking till he reached the next block when he nearly yelled with joy when he spotted exactly what he’d been looking for. He recognized the food truck; he had passed it on his way home from school several times and always wondered why it was so busy.

“Sir! Sir!” Dylan’s voice was lost in the dinner people lining up to counter to place their orders. He cried and sprang as high as he could, but no one heard or recognized him. He tried to grab the owner’s attention, but there were simply too many people.

After a few minutes of waiting for the crowd to disperse, he returned to the counter. “Please, sir, give me whatever I can for 28 dollars,” he chirped after the crowd had dispersed enough for him to get closer and place an order.

He was so delighted that finally his cravings would be satisfied, but Martin, the food truck’s proprietor, scowled and answered, “I’m truly sorry, kid. We’ve exhausted all possibilities. There’s only bread and cheese and a partially melted ice cream bar.”

Martin sensed the young boy’s disappointment and wished he could help him. Dylan couldn’t contain his disappointment. He had hoped for a long time that he would be able to obtain what he had desired. It was initially because he couldn’t afford it, but even now that he had enough money to buy it, he was unable to do so. As he stomped his foot and sat on the sidewalk, his heart sank dejectedly.

“It’s my birthday, and I can’t even afford to treat my mother to a decent dinner. She’s done so much for me and gone through a lot, and I reasoned I’d do something nice for her for once,” the child continued to talk to himself aloud, succumbing to his want to cry.

“Well, happy birthday, big kid,” Martin murmured as he sat down beside Dylan. The boy simply nodded; he wasn’t exactly in a chit-chat mood, and it’s not that Martin’s pity would make his wishes miraculously come to pass. He began to rant a bit, absentmindedly. Martin listened for the next 20 minutes as Dylan told him about his mother’s troubles and how they’ve been going through a rough patch for the past week.

“Hello, sir. Perhaps I can come work for you while my mother finds work. I’m not very good at cooking, but I can learn,” Dylan begged. The pureness of the boy’s heart moved Martin.

“Your mother sounds like a wonderful woman, and you’re a very good boy. I apologize for not having anything for you today, but I have an idea. Pay attention.”

Dylan was in bed next to Eve when she awoke from her rest, pretending to be in deep sleep. He was having trouble concealing his delight at the covert scheme he had devised with the food truck owner. Eve was awakened the next morning by a muffled voice shouting her name.

“Mom, here we are, Mom!” Eve woke startled, searched around the home for her boy, and realized the voice came from outside.

“What’s up?” she wondered as she went to open the door. She paused for a second to realize her son was waving from inside a food truck.

“What… what’s going on, Dylan?” How she was attempting to make sense of what she was seeing.

“Oh, I bought us breakfast,” Dylan said happily, chuckling at his mother’s ignorance. And standing right next to him was the food truck owner. He served Eve a platter of nicely shaped pancakes. “Ma’am, here you go. Your son informs me that you enjoy pancakes.”

She watched everything that was unfolding before her. In her wildest thoughts, she had not expected to wake up to something like this. She moved her gaze from the odd man to her son and then to the food truck. She had no idea what was going on, but the excitement on her son’s face comforted her, that whatever she was perplexed about would soon be disclosed to her.

Despite the unusual start to breakfast, she recognized her son’s sincere objective and the kindness of the stranger who developed a way to achieve it. “Thank you, sir, for this delicious meal,” Eve said, her palm over her heart as she tried to contain her happiness. It was an honor, but I do have a request in exchange.”

Martin stopped, leaving Eve perplexed. “Your kid can’t stop complimenting you on your cooking abilities, and I happen to be seeking someone to work in the kitchen and inspire some new dishes. Would you be interested?”

Eve couldn’t believe her ears. This man was offering her a job. Everything seemed like a dream to her, perhaps one she needed to wake up from before she really started to believe it. She blinked repeatedly and realized that it was really happening.

“Yes, I would indeed,” Eve answered. Even Martin now owned one of the most popular food trucks in town. Martin prepared the best pancakes in town, while Eve made the best noodles. Dylan, at ten, was the truck’s official taste tester and eagerly served guests new recipes.

It all started with a little boy’s pure heart and a kind stranger’s gift, but it grew into something far more meaningful for Eve and her family.