While shopping at that child-friendly mecca, Trader Joe’s, my wee ones demanded that I make good on the snack I promised. (It had been originally, loudly demanded, natch, from the rear while I was driving highway speed.)

I had a large bag of raisins but no way to distribute them in small quantities.* I found some little cups over by the drink machine and snagged two. I guess they are supposed to be used for sampling the TJ product of the day, but nevermind. As I started to put raisins into the first cup, Miss M piped up: “Me first! I’m the mommy!”

“Oh, honey,” I said regretfully, “The mommy always gets served last.”

“But I want to be first,” she explained.

“I know,” I sympathized, as I gave the cup to AM, “but the mommy goes last.”

* Left to his own devices, AM would eat the entire bag and still ask for more, so I have to control the portion.