Mom gave the kids two boxes of See’s chocolates for Valentines Day.
One for the boys, one for the girls.
But the thing about sharing in our family is that…
Well, we don’t share.
At least we don’t like to.
…Especially when it comes to food and especially when it comes to chocolate.
Instead of being grateful for Mom’s gift, Mira cried, “Share?! I don’t want to share!”
But I had a fabulous idea. “It’s okay, Mira, I’ll just eat the first half and then you can eat the second half.”
Max looked at me. Disgusted. He turned to Harrison and said, “Glad I’m not sharing with her.”
“That’s gross!” Dad said, “You are such an oldest child.”
I saw nothing wrong with my way of thinking. I’d bite into every one first and Mira would get the second half. She’s not a germaphobe; she’s doesn’t care. So what?
“Okay,” Mira said simply.
So we started eating. I bit in first, handed the other half to Mira, and she ate.
Finally we got to a chocolate with marshmallow inside.
“Ooo, this is a toughy. We better get a knife.” Mira grabbed the knife while I inspected the chocolate and figured out how to cut it. While Mira looked in the dishwater, I started eating the halves of the other chocolates and laid out the second halves for her.
Then I looked at Mira’s halves sitting on the table.
With my saliva and teeth marks.
Awaiting Mira’s mouth.
“This is gross!” I yelled. “I can’t make you do this!” We decided not to eat the chocolates and wait for another day to settle the problem.
A half hour ago, Mira came in with the chocolates.
“Anne, guess what?”
“There’s two of each kind. We don’t need to split the chocolates.”
So the two of us sorted the chocolates out into “Mira’s pile” and “Anne’s pile.” We ate them on my bed and described the flavor of each kind. We watched each other’s reactions when we bit into them and warned the other if the next chocolate was iffy.
“Good thing we got this taken care of,” Mira said. “This is serious business.”