Billy or Bob?

It's Sunday (which is my day - therefore I get to plan, prepare, and clean up all the meals for that day). I have picked spaghetti for dinner tonight, which is one of my absolute favorites! As I am preparing dinner, I catch myself in the moment... the background is filled with enriching church music playing softly in the family room and six little children are gathered around a small preschool table coloring their pages from the "friend", and the house feels peaceful and reverent.

Bryson, hungry and waiting to eat, comes into the kitchen to help open a can of olives and help me get the food on the table, which I so much appreciated (bam... he was rewarded a fun freebie just like that... service without being asked... love it!). The children are called to the table, each older child helps his/her buddy get up to the table, bibs on, and we are ready to pray and eat. The process of dishing each of the children's plates (little ladies first, always, then older ladies, then little gentlemen, and finally older gentlemen) often takes a few minutes. Sometimes it seems, well probably more than seems, it really is a fact, that the mother is usually last. This occasion is no different.

After serving each of my children, I finally slop a few heapfuls of noodles, followed by another few heapfuls of sauce, topped with shredded cheddar cheese. My mouth is watering, as I can practically taste the spaghetti in my mouth, while the smell of garlic tempts me to devour the two pieces of garlic bread that are screaming, "Eat me!" on the napkin next to my plate. My fork gently winds and twists the spaghetti noodles around and around, making a big clump of delicious mess. I then raise the fork to my mouth, mouth wide open, and ready to indulge in delightness, when I am interupted by...

"Which one should I eat first, Billy or Bob?"

What? Who's Billy or Bob? I put my fork down, without taking a bite, to figure out what was going on... seeking clarity for such a random comment. Again, the question came, only this time a little louder because no one had answered his question.

"Which one should I eat first, Billy or Bob? Mom, what do you think?" Tyler asks.

Only then, do I notice the spread of olives that cover each fingertip. Caught off guard and completely amused, I am laughing inside and smiling outside, and simply reply, "Why, I definitely think you should eat Bob first. Save Billy for last."

And with that, he promptly sucks off the olive on the pointer finger of his left hand... and without hesitation, says, "I don't want Bob to be lonely. I am gonna eat Billy, too. Then they can be friends in my tummy." The olive on the ring finger of his right hand is immediately swallowed, and that was that. If only life was that simple... and the hardest decision I had to make in a day was which olive to eat first... Billy or Bob?

(I guess it's a good thing that I don't eat olives, cause I couldn't imagine eating all of my friends!)