Jellybeans and little girls

Do you see this jellybean cannister? Imagine five girls standing around it, salivating. Coveting. Sort of like this:

I bought the jellybeans for Chris. Anything that qualifies as a treat around here has a tendency to....disappear. Quickly. The girls are a lot like locusts when it comes to sugar. So, because I bought the jellybeans for my hardworking husband and wanted him to be able to eat a few, I put a strict prohibition on the jellybeans. They are only for BOYS.

The girls can't take it. They are dying of desire. They have not, however, touched the jellybeans. They gather around the jar, look longingly at its contents, repeatedly wonder aloud how the various colors might taste...but they don't touch them. They respect the Daddy's right to his own treat.

But let's talk about Lucy. She is a wonder and a worry to me, in that order. I marvel at how self-assured she is, how little she cares what others are doing or thinking, how confident she is in her place in the world. I can't believe this little firebrand shares genes with me. I can't believe that I had a hand in bringing this force of nature into existence. While the other girls were tip-toeing around the jellybeans, Lucy studied them long and hard. Then, a few days after their arrival, she came to a decision.

Chris and I were in the basement when she came halfway down the stairs and stopped to confront us. "I am share Daddy's beans, " she announced, looking expectantly at Chris.

Her gaze was unflinching and steely.

He stood up and went to get her some beans.


How could he not? "I am share Daddy's beans," she said, and she meant it. It wasn't a question, it wasn't a request, it was a statement. Concise and unconquerable. Just like Lucy.

Watch out, world, because your jellybeans are next.