My son and I picked up his four-year-old son and a friend from school. He got into the car with stories about his day and a zip lock bag with three cookies.
“Did you make cookies today?” My son asked.
“Yes,” his child answered as he opened the bag and gave one to his friend.
“That’s so nice of you to share with your friend. How about giving one to Mimi, too?”
Silence. He already lost one cookie. There was no way he was going to voluntarily give up another one. My son persisted.
“She came a long way to visit us. It would be really nice if you shared.”
Silence. I could feel the heat of his resistance from behind my seat.
“I already asked her,” he lied.
“No you didn’t,” my son said.
The wheels were frantically turning in his four-year-old brain. He was facing make it or break it. Sifting through everything in his mental rolodex he bravely pulled out the last stop.
“But, Daddy, I want her to be healthy!”
And, thus, the cookies were saved from foreign invasion.