Alphabet

I apologize in advance, this is another of my rare posts about my kids. Bear with me.

My four like nothing better than arguing and fighting among themselves. Maybe because it's because there's four of them and they feel like it's the only way they get airtime, or maybe because they're all just plain crazy. A couple of years ago I realised that they must, at some level, quite like it. Otherwise they wouldn't... right?

When we stay at my mother's, she often makes soup. And as a special treat, this weekend she made alphabet soup. Or as my oldest son termed it, "alphabetical soup", which has a pleasant Edwardian ring to it I'm sure you'll agree.

Once the soup was served up, the fun started. "I've got a 'Z'", announced one, triumphantly. "No, that's really an 'N', you're always cheating", and "'Z' isn't so special, there's plenty of them.. I've got a 'Q'"... and so forth, with increasing volume and vehemence until there was a tantrum (me) and tears (girls).

It's a death-match, a fight to the bitter end, real scorched-earth stuff.

My sister gave them two bags of very nice and rather expensive easter eggs to share and they fell on these like Cape Hunting Dogs on a sick zebra. "They don't share", I told her. But I guess if you don't have kids you wouldn't know that.