Recently, my family went on vacation to Tucson, Ariz. During the flight out, my 4-year-old and I sat next to a woman who I thought was thoroughly annoyed with having to sit next to a kid for three hours. She didn't say a word to us the entire time, just sat curled up in her seat, listening to her iPod and scribbling in a sketchpad.

Right before we landed, she turned to my son and handed him the drawing she had worked on during the flight. It was an incredible sketch of a female superhero that looked like a modern version of Wonder Woman, tattoos and all.

"This is for you," she said. "I heard you talking about superheroes."

I was surprised and touched by her offering. I thanked her profusely and Kai said he was going to hang the drawing on the wall next to his bed.

This event sparked a great conversation between my son and I. I told him about "random acts of kindness" and that some people, special people, do nice things for no reason. Dr. Bronner would be proud of me.

During the flight back, I folded a few paper cranes to entertain my son. He loves to watch me fold them, and every time a flat piece of origami paper becomes a crane, he acts completely surprised. "A crane!" he exclaims, as if it's just short of a miracle.

After I folded a bright orange crane, he asked if he could give it to the little girl sitting behind us with her mother. I thought that was a great idea considering he had been given an artistic gift on the last flight. Gifting the crane to a stranger on the plane seemed to complete some sort of "airplane art karmic circle."

My son turned around in his chair and handed the crane to the little girl, who was about 6 years old. "Coooool!" she exclaimed, and immediately began to inspect it, trying to figure out how it was constructed. Kai said proudly, "I helped my mom fold it."

Suddenly, her mother's shrill voice shattered the moment. "Honey!" she said. "Put that down -- now! -- they were TOUCHING that!"

The little girl hesitated for a second, and then put the crane on the floor in front of her seat. She wouldn't glance at us, and quietly looked out the window for the rest of the flight. I was speechless; shocked by the mother's insane germ phobia, and/or belief that Kai and I were no more than potential viruses wearing sandals.

So much for the karmic circle.