Little Legs was tasked with getting the popsicles.
“What color do you want?” he asked Baby Brother.
“I want blue,” Baby Brother said.
“And what color do you want?” he asked me.
“Red, please,” I said.
“Ok, ok,” Little Legs said, making a mental note.
He pulled open the freezer, rummaged around and extracted three specially selected-to-order treats.
Baby Brother got orange, I got white, and Little Legs got blue in a fair-enough-nobody-gets-what-they-want type of way.
“Thank you,” I said.
I cut the tops off each one and tried mine.
It was coconut, which was a problem because I hate coconut. Strong language for a popsicle flavor, I know.
“Do you like it?” Little Legs asked.
His face turned up towards mine, as a sunflower to the sun, he was hungry for my reaction. I was left with a quandary, to tell the truth or say something to not cause any pain or discomfort.
People-pleasing was learned early in my life; only recently have I started the process of stopping and asking myself for honesty and finding that the truth is the best answer.
“No, I don’t care for that flavor, but I appreciate that you picked this out for me.”
He took it in stride, proving that people of all ages can handle disappointment.
“You get what you get,” Little Legs said.
Baby Brother said, “And you don’t throw a fit.”
They waited a long time to dish that one up and I, too, could handle it.