Little Brother came over to me, all sad, after he finished his after-school snack.
“I’m sorry, Mommy. I ate the rest of the Pizza Goldfish.”
I knew there hadn’t been that many in the bag, and I told him not to worry about it.
“But I wanted some for my lunchbox on Monday.”
“Well, I’m going food shopping this weekend. Just ask Middle Sister to write it down on the shopping list on the white board. Say please.”
He did, and she wrote.
But when I went into the kitchen, I discovered that “Pizza Goldfish” was not on the list, under the flour, sugar, and parmesan cheese. Instead, Middle Sister had written down “please.”