How Communism Began

We have a few daily battles here at the circus which I have to mediate carefully.  One involves who buckled their top straps first in the car seat and the other is over who gets to eat off of the coveted plate at meal time. 

I made the innocent mistake of purchasing three different animal face plates last year at Target.  I also bought some basic color plates as well.   I was careful to make sure I got red and purple (my son and daughter’s favorite colors as well as 2 others since they baby didn’t yet have an opinion on colors and it was nice to have extras for when friends are visiting).

I remember bringing them home with excitement, our first kid plates, weren’t they cute? 

And for awhile all went smoothly. 

But, somewhere in the last year my daughter decided her favorite things were whatever her big brother liked best.  So, since he wanted the frog plate at dinner, she too wanted the frog plate.  And poor mr monkey and miss lady bug were cast offs.  I suddenly had to keep track of who ate on the frog plate yesterday and whose turn it was tomorrow.  And when the frog plate is dirty, we then resort to colors.  The colors worked for awhile b/c my daughter liked purple and my son liked red.  For awhile I just hid mr frog because the colors kept the peace.

Until my daughter decided that she too liked red.

Now, I have to keep track of who ate off of the frog and who ate off of the red plate.

I have one saving grace though.

Noah’s Ark.

Not sure exactly where we acquired this plate, I think it was in a box of hand me down toys someone gave us.  But my daughter has latched on to the Noah plate because, “Hey, we learned about Noah in my Sunday School class.”  And since my daughter has taken such affection towards the Noah plate, my son now shows an interest in it as well. 

Of course.

But Noah does help keep the peace, because if my son has the frog, my daughter is happy if she has Noah.  And vice versa.

Inevitably there are days when Noah and Mr Frog are both in the dish washer and I have to keep track of the red plate and who ate on what when. 

Some days I say “Forget it, no one gets to eat off of the red plate, or the frog plate, or Noah plate.”  Admittedly, this is usually said in frustration and met with great weeping and gnashing of teeth as they have to “suffer” with eating off of the monkey or lady bug.  Some days, I don’t feel like negotiating and I just give the coveted plate to the baby, who doesn’t yet care.  Some days I keep track of who had what when.  Some days I patiently explain that we have to share and take turns and we can’t all have what we want when we want it. 

Most days I regret bringing home the cute kid plates and am wondering why I didn’t just bring home 5 plastic white plates and call it a day.  I’m pretty sure that’s what an experienced mom would have done.  And I’m pretty sure where communism got it’s start.

In a home with three children all fighting over the coveted dinner plate.