You know how I love a good theme!
Anyway, I had this lovely, silly idea that my three children could share the first strawberry. When they were little we always shared the first bite of berries from the garden! They were so cute and sweet when they did it; like little cherubs with rosy cheeks and gratitude shining out of their sweet, wonder filled eyes.
Before we could get to the sharing of the strawberry, things took a turn. First I asked my middle and youngest to clean up my office, which they somehow mess up every weekend. This led to someone who refused to "stop looking at" his sister "that way." This someone was smacked with a yoga mat by his sister. That there was ranting, threats, a mother in a cute white button-up shirt dotted with tiny strawberries began cursing (out loud. parent of the year that lady!) and then, the oldest got in on the action, declaring her life ruined by her siblings and calling her family a "shit show."
Like why must they be this way? At least they all still have rosy cheeks, albeit from shouting.
Anyway, eventually, after several counseling sessions with the middle one, then another counseling session with the big one, the strawberry was eaten by all three. Predictably, the oldest took a tiny bite because she wanted to avoid controversy and her younger brother crying over his strawberry portion. The middle sister took an average sized bite without a care in the world. Then, of course, the younger brother, looked around to see if anyone was watching and ate the rest of the strawberry, including the leaves.
They always been this way: quietly trying to make everyone happy (the oldest), doing whatever they want (the middle) and taking everything they want (the youngest).
Despite the dysfunction and inadvertent psychological test of sharing the strawberry, I thought we had turned a corner back to sanity. Instead, there was more refusal to perform basic tasks that resulted in a picture falling off the wall, because it was hit with a laundry basket being used as a prop in an angry dance up the stairs. Cue more yelling, tears and mental health counseling.
The good news, everyone rallied, hugged and said I love you. The bad news, there are more strawberries to harvest tomorrow and I am sure there will be drama. Maybe I'll just leave them for the birds. . .