Mary wanted scrambled eggs. I gave her a bowl and told her she could have ONE egg. She would crack them all if I didn’t specify how many.
She is surprisingly good at cracking eggs. Rarely does she get any bits of shell in the bowl. I think she’s better than some of her siblings. She’s had a lot of practice. I have not encouraged this practice. She has insisted on learning.
I also gave her a spoon. She likes her eggs beaten with a spoon. I don’t argue with her, even though I disagree. The spoon works.
Peter saw Mary beating her egg and decided he wanted one too. I gave Mary another egg and added a bit of milk.
Mary knows I usually put oregano in my scrambled eggs. Have you ever tried that? It’s quite good. She went to the spice rack on the back of the pantry door. She selected the lemon pepper. She’s only three; I guess I can’t expect her to read. I showed her the label on the oregano and pointed out the letter “O”. We’ll see if she remembers next time.
She went to the bowl to add the oregano. Peter objected. “I don’t like that,” he said. I narrowed my eyes and stared at him, but decided to not say anything. As I said, I usually add oregano to my eggs. He eats it that way all the time.
Sweet Mary, though, was concerned for the finicky palate of her sibling. With oregano in hand, and poised over the bowl of beaten eggs, she pointed to one side of the bowl. “This is my egg,” she explained, “and that is yours,” indicating the other portion.
Fortunately, Peter didn’t seem overly aware of the whole scrambling process. And also, fortunately, he really doesn’t mind oregano in his eggs.