We were at Sam and Lily’s “Move Up” ceremony when the next utterly unfair event took place. Rory, ten minutes into the event, says “lappy.” I say, no way. You’re a wiggling, squiggling ball of pointy bones that kick, and there is no way I’m holding you on my lap for however long this is.
And it is long. Not really, in the grand scheme of things, but long enough. Rob is seated one row in front of us and Rory and Wyatt keep taking turns climbing down to sit with him (better spot to take pictures). Finally, after about fifty minutes, Wy has had enough: and he crawls into my lap, and I absent-mindedly let him.
Rory is horrified. “Lappy!” she demands of Rob. He refused. “Lappy! Lappy! Lappy! I want lappy LAPPY!” She is turned around in the seat, she is looking at me, she is betrayed, and she is going to LOSE IT.
I lean over. “You’re right,” I whisper. “You asked for lappy earlier, and I said no, and now Wyatt is sitting in my lap, and that’s just the way it is right now. Another time, you will be in my lap and Wyatt won’t be, and he will be mad, too.” And Rob put her in his lap and she… bought it. Phew. Someday we will be able to stop buying her the cupcakes he likes in town and she doesn’t, but doesn’t want to see him have, either. Someday.