This morning before the rain, I spent time with my notebook at the playground while our little guy Trevor climbed around.
Sometimes in our house when one child tries to hoard a case of pencil crayons or something, I'll say, "It's the family's and that means it's for sharing."
So when Trevor took over the "steering" wheel near the top of the slide, he looked sternly at the younger curly-haired stranger and said, "It's the family's!"
He automatically assumed she wasn't willing to share, so he decided to take matters into his own hands. Perhaps there was a gap in his reasoning or maybe a yucky layer of selfishness he wasn't able to see through in order to get the whole point.
I'm slightly disappointed now that I didn't immediately get up and offer some correction. Instead there was a tickle on my forehead and when I swiped at it, a small black spider dropped onto my page. I pushed it off with the other end of my pen.
What is it with crawly things making their way into my work? I'm not afraid of them, but they're kind of annoying.
In any case, he didn't actually steer anybody anywhere with that wheel.