Trust the Gorton's Fisherman

It was dinner time and everyone was hungry. In fact, we hadn't had a meal all day long. Just various snacks and that made everyone even more ready for a good meal. It wasn't gourmet, but it was decent. G threw several bags of this and that into the oven to heat and we were going to enjoy a salad, too.

We got to the table and barely took our seats before we started grabbing the chicken clods and fries from the glass platter on the middle of the table. I mean we were shoveling food onto our plates like we had been stranded on a desert island with nothing to eat and no way to catch a meal either. Yeah, we were Starvin' Marvin' and you better just stay out of our reach for the platter of food.

After I had gobbled one of the chicken nuggets-that in itself should be an indication of how famished I was. I do NOT, repeat-DO NOT-eat anything that has been flaked and formed. Well after I downed one of the mini hockey pucks, I realized that there was far better fare on the platter. Yeah, it was charred, but charred beats flaked and formed any day. Yes, these little drops were just for G and me...Breaded mini shrimp. Yum. Yum.

G and I split the little golden, I mean black, morsels in half and placed them on our plates. We ate them greedily and more than one fly was swatted into the middle of next week for attempting a landing on one of these little dandies.

G left the table and returned with tartar sauce. He glanced at his plate, "HEY! I had 18. There were 18 shrimp on my plate. Now there are only 17; you give it back." I explained that I had not taken his little shrimp and that it was just pathetic for him to try to get one off of my plate by faining that I had stolen one from his.

"Mommy, MORE!" Little Big Boy ordered. More milk. I don't mind that he doesn't say please every time. It is an order that I wouldn't tolerate from anyone else. Maybe it is because he is the baby of the family. Maybe it is because his voice is just too sweet to see it as anything, but a cute little request, but I rose from the table and filled his glass.

After I replaced the jug of milk in the frig, I looked at my plate and at least five shrimps were missing-and I know that they didn't go to school 'cause it hasn't even started yet-in our neck of the woods anyway. Well, I looked accusingly at G and he shook his head no-no he said without a word, I did not take your little shrimps.

Well someone get on the phone and find the Hardy Boys! This was a real stumper. Our kitchen is little. Our table has just enough room for five people plus platters. We were practically sitting in each other's laps, for Pete's sake and our little shrimp were disappearing before we could say, "Trust the Gorton's fisherman."

Then, quite suddenly and stealthly, I noticed a little hand flash over to G's plate. Tiny fingers stole a little shrimp. I watched the culprit do it again. And again. And again. The thief had revealed himself...

I caught G's attention and tossed my head for him to watch what had been transpiring right before our eyes.

Little Big Boy's hand reached right over and grabbed a shrimp while we were talking. Then he would reach over to my plate and take one from there too. It was all very fair and he was taking equally; we have raised him well. Share and share alike. He took them like they were his. Very matter-of-factly-with no intention of deception at all. He was hungry and he knew where the best tasting stuff was.

G and I sat there and smiled at each other. You know that smile of knowing parents. We let him finish off all of our shrimp. It was entertaining. It was innocent. It was thievery! Oops. Lost it there for a moment. He took the little shrimps and it was all good. He just wanted "MORE." It is his way.