Sharing is caring

Almost every day, usually at breakfast but sometimes during other meals, and always with dessert, mom and dad try to get me to share with them. I don't get it. They give me a bowl of berries or pieces of chocolate or a handful of cinnamon toast crunch cereal, and then ask me to give it back. I know how to share. I just don't want to share so I almost never do so. I will occasionally acquiesce just to humor them. I've found that I can tease them by acting like I'm handing them a piece of my treat and then withdrawing it and eating it myself. It frustrates them, but oddly enough, they can't help but laugh. I must admit I can't resist when they open their mouth and look at me like a hurt puppy. Those are the times when I share with them, but even that generosity has its limits. A sure fire cure for their antics is to put the food in my mouth first and then offer it to them. That works nearly every time.

Before I came home, I was the smallest guy in the group. No one shared with me, and I didn't have anything of my own to share with others. It'll take me a while to get used to the concept of owning something and then sharing what I own with someone else.

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Diary of a toddler boy

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