My son and daughter were eating dinner yesterday, sitting side by side at the kitchen table. My son is three years old and is sitting on the left, mind you now sitting in a regular chair, since he has deemed the booster seat too juvenile for him, and my little girl, all of 15 months old, perched on the booster seat, thrilled with herself to be out of the high chair, as they eagerly awaited their spaghetti.
Each child had a green plate. Supposedly, unbreakable, however, my wee one managed to shatter a bowl made of the same material, but its better than my china, and sturdier than paper. Each child had a fork. My son, the green handled one that matches the plates, and my daughter, a regular cake fork from my everyday flatware set.
Boy, she really wanted the green handled one.
But she didn’t grab it away, or holler, or whine, or lunge at her brother. She had other plans.
After quite a few bites of spaghetti, my son tired of his fork wrangling and decided it would be much easier to eat with his hands. My daughter watched as he placed his fork next to his plate, on her side, but not too far away from his setting. He picked up a piece of pasta and put to his mouth. Then another and another. She waited for her moment...patiently.
And then it came.
My son grabbed a large handful of spaghetti and shoved it into his mouth, but needed both hands to manage the spilling pasta. My daughter made her move. But not in haste; she was entirely calculated. She slowly moved her left hand toward the prize, while at the same time, began moving her right hand over, whilst holding her existing fork. Her unsuspecting brother looked over once and she paused, long enough to laugh at and with him. When he resumed his pasta frenzy, she continued on her quest. That left hand, on a sure path to success, found its prey and her tiny fingers wrapped around the handle, and she quickly darted her old fork over to replace her new found utensil.
Her pride was immense. But short-lived.
My son realized what had happened, and before his sister could plunge the fork into her spaghetti, he swiftly moved to right the situation, and brusquely grabbed the green handled jewel back from her.
She looked so sad, even if only for a moment. She worked so hard, and was so cunning. She was calculated. She was keen. I was proud. My baby girl had, for a moment, won. There will be more wins for her in the future. You can count on it.
