Queen of Cups
Last summer, there was one way to make sure that mealtimes in our house were pleasant. Andrew, then 4, needed a yellow plate and a yellow straw for his cup. If the yellow plates or straws were in the dishwasher, or — god forbid! — accidentally given to his little brother, calamity ensued. There would be crying, wailing, gnashing of teeth … full disaster mode.
It faded away as unexpectedly as it had arrived. My parents gave us some new dishes at Christmas, and the boys thought the Nana/Grandpa plates were the most exciting thing that had ever happened. Best of all, since the plates were all the same color, there was no more negotiating yellow plate politics. Around the same time, he stopped caring about having a straw in his cup. (I suspect someone must have told him that big boys don’t need straws. Pronouncements like that from fellow preschoolers carry enormous weight.) And setting the table became normal again.
I was extremely glad (Wait, no. Not glad at all.) when Jordan began to exhibit the same color preferences in dishes. Instead of yellow plates and yellow straws, Jordan (now 3) requires a blue cup. If he has a green cup, he announces, “Green not my favorite color!” and collapses in a heap at the table.
I assumed that it would be just like last summer, and we’d just need to make sure there was always a blue cup at the ready for a few months. But this week, Andrew has figured out a new way to throw a wrench in the machine.
“It’s not fair!” he declared at breakfast. “Jordan ALWAYS gets the blue cup and I NEVER get the blue cup!”
My husband turned and whispered to me, “I thought YOU were the drama queen in this house. You’ve been de-throned.”
No. I am, and remain, the Queen of Cups.