I read a line a while ago that that amused me. There are two kinds of people in the world: those who divide the world into two kinds of people, and those who don't.
Yup, I'm still amused.
I'd wager that married people in particular find themselves dividing the world into two kinds of people very often. Those who put their clothes in the hamper, and those that don't. Those who keep peanut butter in the fridge, and those who don't. Those who like watching NASCAR, and those who don't. If you're married, you can insert your own examples here.
When married people have children, it becomes an exercise in determining what kind of person you have jointly created.
This morning I made French toast and sausages for brunch. When we all had finished, our four-year-old had one sausage left, and asked who wanted it. "Me!" shouted my seven-year-old, as she ran back to the table.
"I'll take it!" called my husband, also making a u-turn.
I quickly stabbed the link with a fork and shielded it with one hand, before my husband could grab it.
He's a notorious food snatcher. The children resist sitting next to him at dinner because of this. When we were dating in high school, I once had dinner at his house and saw him steal almost an entire pork chop from his little sister's plate. (When she whined, my future mother-in-law told her she should've eaten it faster. At the time I thought that was harsh, but now that I am a mother of four, I understand where she was coming from.)
Holding the sausage in custody, I said to the eager father and daughter, "So what should we do about this?"
"Give it to me!" shouted my daughter.
"Rock paper scissors!" suggested my husband.
I shook my head, chuckling, and said, "Come on, there's an easy way to solve this!"
"Flip a coin?" guessed my daughter.
"No, rock paper scissors. Let's go . . ." repeated my husband.
"You guys! It's a sausage. It's not like it's a baby, or a bicycle. There's a way you can both win!"
My husband grinned, feigning confusion. "You can't get a baby from rock paper scissors."
I rolled my eyes at him. "Look, I can easily give you both a piece . . . ." I said as I picked up a knife with my free hand.
"NOOOOOOOOOO!" screamed father and daughter in unison.
My draw dropped at their united outrage at the idea of sharing this lone link of breakfast sausage. These two are hilarious!
Then my daughter blurted, "I know what to do!" and with fluid motion, grabbed the sausage off my fork, shoved it into her mouth, then turned and ran from the kitchen.
"YOU LITTLE STINKER!!!" shouted my husband, running after her.
It doesn't take the wisdom of Solomon to figure out where she gets it.
