I’m used to sharing things. I mean, you aren’t a mother for almost 20 years and not instinctively split your candy bar in two and give it to the nearest one of your offspring so you can eat at least half of it in peace. When the kids were little, I shared food off my plate, or the hat off my head. Now I share socks and “Here, just borrow my shoes for today” and “Here’s the spare charger, just use this one.”
But this weekend, Maura decided to push those sharing abilities to their limits.
See, I got a car. I got a cute little Fiat 500 1957 retro version car. It could probably fit in the back of our big family-hauling SUV. It’s a five speed manual transmission and gets 40 mpg. And it’s cute. It’s a tiny little adorable car. Or as I like to call it – Mine.
When we brought it home, we called the kids to the door. “Look!”
Sean was his calm self. “Nice.”
Miriam gasped. “Oh! It’s adorable!”
Maura gasped, gasped again, then said “Ohhhhhhh! Thank you!”
It’s not like there’s a precedent here, where we’ve presented older siblings with their own shiny new vehicles, so there’s nothing in Maura’s history that should make her think that this time, the car we brought home was for her. But you know, we did joke that she’d think it was for her. We were just proven right.
The next day, I went to go out. I grabbed my purse, my jacket, turned to the key holder…and found that the key to the Fiat was missing.
I checked my purse. My pockets. “Um, the key’s gone.” I announced.
We all looked at Maura.
“Start checking her purses.” I said. Because more than once this month, she’s taken keys off the key holder and put them in a purse. I dug through the backpack she was currently using, finding some clothes and notebooks but no key. I checked the couch cushions, Miriam checked Maura’s room. Josh checked the backpack again. No key.
Josh looked at Maura. “Where’s the key to the new car?”
She blinked at him and just pressed her iPhone for a new song, ignoring him as she wore her headphones.
He took the iPhone she was using away from her. She immediately reacted. “Hey!”
“You can have your phone back when we find the car key. Now where’s the car key?” he said.
“Fine!” She got up, went to the backpack we had checked twice, and pulled the key out of the little side pocket we’d neglected to notice. “Here. Phone?”
She got her phone back, as promised. And I was once again reminded to never underestimate this child of mine. Getting the car key back was a bonus though.