Meanness

Tonight, during dinner, Hubby was going through Large Fry's bag of Valentine's party goodies from school.  I helped him translate some of the scribbles of the other kindergarteners as they mangled their own names on the valentines.  And, Hubby told all three Fries, if they ate all their dinner, Large Fry would share some of her candy haul and they could all have some candy for dessert.

However, inbetween the reading of the valentines and the admiring of the candy, Small and Medium Fries weren't eating.  They were paying more attention to the candy than they were to the food still on their plates.  (Can't imagine why.)

Hubby stared down Small Fry as Medium Fry pulled ahead in the food-finishing race.  (By this time, Large Fry had finished and was munching on "dazzling" candy hearts.  Yes, they sparkled.)  "Eat," he told her.

"Someone's mean!" Small Fry accused.

Hubby just looked back at her.

"Someone's mean!"  Small Fry scowled rather adorably.

"Yes, and it's you," Hubby said.

Small Fry still scowled.  "Dat's wight!  It is me!"