Sharing Is My Thing

Children don't like to share.   At least when they're little they don't.   Why share something when you can have it all to yourself?   We had to teach our children that sharing was an important thing we all did.   Did the lesson sink in?   Perhaps some of the time.  Other times, my two children would rather be sent to their room for a week instead of sharing the one mini ginger ale we have for special stomach ache situations.  

I came upstairs today to find my daughter's chocolate bunny unwrapped and in pieces and cumbles all over her spot at the dining room table.   She was out on the deck at the time, getting warmed by the sun and covering herself inadvertently (and unknowingly) by loads of yellow pollen 

I asked her to come in and told her there was a problem.   We were exceptionally fortunate to have a compliant dog, because most dogs wouldn't be able to resist the draw of the smell of chocolate, left within easy reach at the edge of the table.   Matisse didn't even try.   She's quite remarkable that way.   She's just not very food-driven, thankfully. 

My daughter apologized and put the chocolate up on the bar.   As we were about to leave I asked if I could have a piece of her chocolate bunny.   She said, "Of course you can."   Then she followed up with, "Do you know what makes my heart ache in the best way?  Sharing.   Sharing is the best kind of thing."

The Big Boy Update:  My son came home today to find some of his friends outside on the trampoline, waiting to set off a party popper of streamers inside the net.   It was exciting fun, but all my son wanted to do was do some more programming after he came home from his Code Ninjas after-school class.   

The Tiny Girl Chronicles:  My daughter saw Dhruti today and they had a special event planned: they were going to plant a flower in the flowerbed Dhruti had just built outside her office.   And they were going to get muddy.   My daughter had nice clothes on, for her, and yet she got in the dirt with her shoes off and started digging a hole.   I heard Dhruti say, "See what the dirt feels like to you.   When we turn on the water in a few minutes, I want you to see what it feels like on your hands and between your toes then.   I told my daughter later that she was lucky they couldn't get the water to turn on.  Because I was stripping her down outside the car and making her ride home naked if it had worked.