His chubby little hands grasp at the toy his brother is holding.
"Mine!" He repeats, more insistently this time.
Not far behind the mastering of the word "No!" in any child's speech development is the mastering of the word "Mine!"
I chuckle at first, then I sigh. Yes, it's a lesson to be taught and I hope, in time, it will be learned. This lesson of unselfishness.
I thought I had it mastered when I got married. Then "my life" became "our life together" and the lesson began.
Then, I reached the next level. It's one thing to share a house with someone else attempting to learn to be unselfish. It's quite another to give birth to a child that has the idea of "Mine!" internalized long before the word is vocalized.
I reach for my secret treat stash in my beside drawer. I find crumpled paper and a few crumbs.
I curl up for a few minutes of "me time" and find it soon becomes "we time".
I sit down to eat my dinner and feel a tug on my skirt. It seem someone else feels entitled to the food on my plate regardless of the fact that his plate, though smaller, is identical to mine.
I stretch out in my bed to enjoy those last moments of sleep before the alarm goes off, and I feel a bounce and a thud against my side as a wiggly little body claims his spot on the pillow.
I won't even go into my privacy which used to include my shower and other necessary functions in that room.
Before I get too wrapped up in what of mine has become shared, I must remind myself that Someone else left the throne He called Mine and came to the world He called Mine to find it was taken over by the very people He had created to be His as well. They not only called it theirs but excluded Him from it in the process.
Which suggests to me that perhaps all those things I call mine really never belonged to me at all.