|Guaranteed to make mealtime . . . interesting.|
I had been smart.
I had managed to find two of each of the four patterns of the Campbell's Kids soup bowls.
All . . . capable of holding soup.
And none of which was ‘the right one’ at any given meal.
Child #1: Mom! I wanted the skater bowl! It’s my turn to get the skater bowl!
Child #2: She always gets the skater bowl! I wanted it this time!
Me: I bought two of them! Where is the other one?
Child #3: I have it.
Me: Well, would you mind using the soccer bowl instead?
Child #3: I already started eating.
Child #1: Yuck! I don’t want it if he’s been using it! I’ll get his germs!
Moving ahead twenty years . . .
Dinner was served.
The table had been laid with the finest of paper-thin, bone china and glistening, polished silver.
Crystal goblets caught the light of myriad candles.
Heavily laden dishes, steaming hot and breathing out the teasing, tantalizing scents of basil, thyme and rosemary had been placed with distinct attention to both aesthetic detail and practical access.
Family had gathered.
In a surge of thankfulness for the bounties before us, Grace was said.
And then, from the kids’ table . . .
Grandchild #1: Gramma! I wanted the blue cup!
Grandchild #2: She had the blue cup last time! It’s my turn!
Grandchild #3: I don’t want the pink cup ‘cause it’s a girl colour!