Hassan and the Magic Word

Hassan was having a TERRIBLE day. His Lego tower fell down. His baby sister drooled on his homework. His best friend was sick and couldn't come over. His mama said no to chocolate for breakfast (a great injustice). By the time he sat down for lunch, Hassan had decided that today was officially the worst day in the history of the world.

His grandfather, who was visiting from Lahore, looked up from his cup of chai. 'You look like a thundercloud, beta.' Hassan crossed his arms. 'Today is the worst.' His grandfather nodded seriously. 'I see. Tell me — do you know the magic word?' Hassan rolled his eyes. 'Please?' 'No. Older than please. Bigger than please.' Hassan thought. 'Thank you?' 'Closer. But in Arabic.'

Hassan thought really hard. 'Alhamdulillah?' His grandfather's eyes crinkled. 'YES. That one. Try it. Every time something little goes right today, say it. Just see what happens.'

Hassan was doubtful, but he was also bored. So he tried. The chai was warm — alhamdulillah. The rain stopped — alhamdulillah. His baby sister laughed at his funny face — alhamdulillah. His mama gave him a tiny piece of chocolate after lunch (NOT for breakfast, but still) — alhamdulillah. His best friend's mama called and said he was feeling better — alhamdulillah.

By bedtime, Hassan had said the magic word about a hundred times, and somehow — somehow — the day didn't feel like the worst anymore. It felt kind of okay. Maybe even good. His grandfather tucked him in. 'You see? The word doesn't change the day, beta. It changes you. And when you change, the day changes too.'

Hassan closed his eyes. 'Alhamdulillah for grandfathers,' he whispered. His grandfather, walking out the door, smiled into the dark.