That Sunday morning, I found my mom kneeling beside the washing machine, her hands soaked in detergent, her hair tied in a hurried bun, and her face lined with exhaustion. She hadn't sat down properly in days — between her online orders, house chores, and Dad's late-night snacks, she barely even slept.
When I offered to help, she smiled and said, "I'm fine, Tianxin. Just go do your homework."
But she didn't look fine.
At school, I sighed loudly in front of the group.
"My mom's turning into a washing machine," I muttered.
"Huh?" Zhou Rui blinked.
"She never stops. She's tired all the time, but she never says anything. It's like she forgot how to rest."
Everyone went quiet for a moment.
Then Junxi suddenly snapped his fingers. "Let's take them out."
"Out?" I asked.
"Picnic!" Zhou Rui chimed in, eyes lighting up.
"All our moms. No excuses." Jiasheng leaned back with a grin. "We'll make them relax, even if we have to carry them to the picnic spot ourselves."
The Unexpected Outing
By Saturday afternoon, we had it all planned — a quiet spot by the riverside near Huali Town, shaded by tall trees and the scent of summer.
Zhou Rui arrived first, holding her mom's hand tightly. Aunt Xiulan looked surprised, still holding a half-packed grocery bag.
Junxi showed up next, trailing behind his cheerful mother who kept saying, "I haven't been to a picnic since school days!"
Jiasheng walked beside his mom, Shan Xiufang, who wore a simple floral blouse and sunglasses. She kept fussing over his hair, much to his embarrassment.
And finally, I brought my mom, who was still insisting, "I have dishes to do—"
But Jiasheng cut her off politely, "Auntie, if you try to go home, we'll tie you to the picnic mat."
My mom laughed for the first time in days.
A Day to Remember
We spread out mats, brought out homemade snacks, and played old songs from Junxi's speaker. Zhou Rui had packed egg sandwiches, Jiasheng's mom brought fried dumplings, and my mom's signature mango pudding was instantly everyone's favorite.
The mothers sat under the shade, chatting and laughing like old school friends. They teased each other about raising chaotic kids like us.
"Your son broke three plates last week?"
"Tianxin once drew on the refrigerator and blamed the cat."
Even Jiasheng's mom was laughing, and that was rare.
Junxi taught us a card game, and the moms joined too. Zhou Rui kept cheating. My mom actually won.
At one point, Jiasheng quietly handed my mom a cold lemonade, saying, "Tianxin talks about you a lot, auntie. You deserve a break."
She smiled, deeply touched.
Golden Sunset & Grateful Hearts
As the sun began to set, we took photos — one with all the moms, one with all of us kids, and one with everyone squished together, laughing.
My mom, who hadn't smiled like that in weeks, leaned toward me and whispered, "Thank you. I really needed this."
I hugged her tightly.
That day, we weren't just kids. We became something more — little heroes of our tired mothers.
And for once, the strongest women in our lives were the ones being taken care of.