We complain about masks and closed bars, but one jar of sauce puts it all in perspective.

I hadn’t seen that look in a while.

I made a quick lunchtime Kroger run and was dumping my groceries on the belt when I saw it. What caught my attention was a little girl, holding her mom’s arm, silently jumping up and down and watching her mom’s face. The boy, a little older, was watching the screen with the same look on his face you have in the fourth quarter of a tight UK basketball game.

The cashier scanned the last few items and gave the total.

“Okay, you can get it,” the mom said, and the girl squealed as they pulled an item out of the cart.

No, not a candy bar or chewing gum. No, not a soda. No, none of the stuff my kids whine for at the register.

A jar of Prego.

The mom looked embarrassed that the girl was so happy. She told the cashier, “Sorry, they are just happy we got some extra stuff.” They got those food stamp funds the state gave to families whose kids get free or reduced lunch, she explained.

I vaguely remember an article about the summer food stamp program, but I’ll never forget that squeal. About spaghetti sauce, the stuff I had a few cans of in my cart.

By the grace of God, it has been a long time since I stared at the rising total on the screen. Don’t get me wrong. I’m the oldest of 11 siblings, and I know what it’s like to be poorer than poverty. But I can’t remember the last time as an adult that I had to prioritize which groceries I needed most. Heck, half the time I get home with a ton of groceries and realize I forgot the milk and bread. Oh, I’m far from wealthy, so I watch the screen to make sure my coupons and discounts are calculated, and I might even make some comment about how I need Kroger or Walmart stock, but there’s never a doubt that I can pay for whatever I pile in my cart or that I’ll have “more month than money,” as one of my dear friends says.

That squeal put a lot of things in perspective for me. People are suffering on levels we can’t comprehend. Kids are going without sauce and basic needs right in our backyards. We’re complaining about masks and closed bars, and some little girl is happy about sauce. We’re fighting in the comments section about whose life matters, and some little girl is happy about sauce. We’re big mad and sensitive about everything, and this little girl ... a jar of sauce, y’all.

We need to get it together. Our kids deserve a better world.

Risa Richardson, APR, a former Herald-Leader writer, works in public relations and is a mother of two. She suggests donations to the Lexington Rescue Mission or Step by Step.