"Connor have truck, Mommy? Please, Mommy?" he asks sweetly, almost innocently. His head is tucked so far down I can't see his neck anymore and his eyes are big and round, pleading.
You see, it's the truck that Xander has fallen in love with recently, the one he reaches for first thing in the morning and rarely lets out of his sights for the rest of the day. It's a red semi truck with a trailer, and my oldest son covets it too. But even more so once brother has started to play with it, as he has right now.
Xander, who can occasionally be counted on for a good game of rolling trucks back and forth, has been rolling this one with Mommy. He's gotten distracted by something else and wanders off, but it will be brief. He'll want that truck back, very soon. Connor knows it, and takes his moment when he sees it. He tries the most pitiful face he has, and his most polite tone.
"Connor have truck, Mommy? Please, Mommy?"
It works. Xander's gone, even though I know he'll be back and he'll be mad. But, share and share alike. When Connor puts a toy down, it becomes fair game for brothers. The rules have to apply to all, even though I know a meltdown will come.
It does, and the polite and pitiful boy shoots his brother a rather nasty grin as he saunters off, holding the truck out behind him as he goes in a final taunt. It's scary how sneaky they're becoming. Wonder where they learn that from?
