a true story about big feelings
His Is Bigger
One bite in, she pushes the whole plate away and points at her brother's slice like she's been robbed.
the realization
She wasn't arguing about cake. She was watching who got picked, who got handed the good one, who got the fuss. Proving the slices matched just told her the thing she was upset about didn't count.
She had one bite in. One. Then the plate went sliding across the table with the back of her hand and she said it flat, like a verdict: his is bigger.
have you ever felt this way too?
So I did the tired-person thing. I got the knife out. I lined the two slices up, I actually measured them against each other in front of her, and I said look, they're exactly the same. And I was right. And she got smaller in her chair. Shoulders down, chin down, not even looking at the plate anymore. I'd won and she'd lost and nothing was better.
So I put the knife down on the counter and dragged a chair over and sat next to her instead of standing over her. I didn't ask what's wrong. I said it hurt that the little one came to you. That was the first thing all day she didn't argue with.
She sat with that. Then I slid both plates back toward her and asked which one do you want to pick this time. She took the little one. Again. And then she pushed it over in front of me and said, you bite.
what I found myself saying
""It hurt that the little one came to you.""
""Which one do you want to pick this time?""
""I put the knife down and sat down next to her.""
