Mr. Liberality

The children surround the table, each with a lump of yellow playdough.

“I’may-en pagutti, I’may-en pagutti.” Arthur has the garlic press. Multiple strands of yellow playdough ‘spaghetti’ appear as he squeezes.

“I’may-en pagutti, I’may-en pagutti.”

George looks at his spaghetti, comments positively. The others join in with talk about their creations.

“I’may-en pagutti, I’may-en pagutti.”

Zach pokes the spaghetti with his finger. He giggles; Arthur grins.

“I’may-en pagutti, I’may-en pagutti.”

Darcy looks up from his playdough, a steadily increasing pile of tiny yellow playdough nubbins under his plastic knife. “Arthur, you only need to say that once. I heard you.”

“Yes, but I’m tellin’ Mary.”

“And she heard you, too.”

“And I’m tellin’ Katie, and I’m tellin’ Zach, and I’m tellin’…”

Oooooh! No need to share, we get one sentence apiece. He’s not repeating himself, merely making sure everyone gets their fair share.

Such a generous boy.