An appreciation for the unique

I think every house with children has that special cup. There's only one of it. But every child in the household argues over whose turn it is to drink out of it. This frustrates everyone. The children because milk doesn't taste quite the same out of lesser cups, and parents because they are wondering why they didn't have just one kid and if they can get away with throwing The Cup away if they do so in the middle of the night.

In my house, cups aren't such a big deal because The Cup was given to Genevieve at her day care and Imogen can not deny that it actually belongs to her sister. Sometimes Genevieve benevolently lets Imogen borrow it, but Imogen doesn't get too worked up about it. However, there was this one incident where Zach came over and unthinkingly used it. He walked out of the kitchen sipping water from it without a care in the world and Genevieve saw him and burst into tears. He stared at her dumbfounded. "Oh..." I said, "You aren't supposed to use that cup."

Spoons, however... Well, there's another story. Everyone wants the Circle Spoon (otherwise known as a sugar spoon). There have been lasting arguments about the Circle Spoon. When we acquired another sugar spoon I thought our problems would be over, but the new sugar spoon was not as circular as the Circle Spoon, so what I thought was a treaty was only a short cease fire. Eventually, I told them that I'm sick of the argument and that they had to take turns with the spoon and they had to keep track of whose turn it was to eat with it. And keep track they do. Having relegated this task to my children, I care not which spoon I grab, but woe to me if I accidentally give the Circle Spoon to the wrong person.

Then, of course, there is the Yellow Plate. There was only one, the rest of the plates being lesser shades of pink and blue. Even during the hight of Genevieve's pink obsession, the Yellow Plate was preferable. However, somehow, we found another yellow plate. Now there are two, and suddenly, while yellow plates are still fairly special, they don't have the same status they did when there was only one.

All of this would be normal enough child-weirdness, without the chipped spots thing. My stoneware, after seven years of marriage, has become chipped in places. While I consider this not such a great thing, my children argue over who gets dishes with the most chipped spots. I pull two bowls down from the shelf for breakfast and they are examined. One is not chipped, the other has two small chips. Discussion ensues. Voices are raises, threats are made, tears are produced in copious amounts. People are sent to the corner to get over it.