Sharing

   Spiderman (age 5) and Princess (age 2) sat down to dinner.
   There was Quiche, which was not in favor, Cornbread, which was almost edible, and green beans, which were the greatest thing to happen to a dinner plate in forever. We eat a lot of green beans. And broccoli. They're on the "I'm-not-up-to-fighting-through-dinner" foods. We don't know why.

   Anyway, the kids sat down to dinner because Daddy wasn't home yet and Mommy was getting ready for piano lessons. (I know, I know - the shattering of the nuclear family began when we stopped sitting together for meals. Some nights, we have a real dinner with manners and everything. Honest.) And they whined about the menu, and sighed when there was a promise of dessert - because that dessert was forever unattainable while a slice of quiche stood in the way.

   And while I prepared for lessons (wardrobe change,checking teeth for green beans, etc.), I warned my son not to whine. So he did.
   So I sent him upstairs to "think carefully" about his next move.
   After five minutes, he recanted the whine and promised faithfully to be sweet. He returned to the dinner table. And shrieked.

   "MOMMIEEEEEE!" he cried. "MOMMIEEEE!" (My children accent the last syllable. The long 'e' sound is easier to shriek than the short 'o' vowel.) I came to his aid, expecting blood.
   "Mommy!" he accused, finger pointed at his little sister. "She took my cornbread!"
 
   The princess paused, mid-chew. Angelic eyes swiveled from the big brother to me. She swallowed, then tottered to his side, cornbread held out (dropping crumbs over the freshly swept floor). "Here," she said, "Here you go." 

    Her brother took the piece back, pacified, and placed it safely on his plate (where he was certainly not going to eat it). He said, in tones of grateful relief, "Thank you."

    The Princess beamed. "MOMMIEEE!" she cried, delighted with herself. She ran to me with a triumphant grin. "Mommy! I SHARED!"
    
    
   We're getting there...