Overheard

Amoeba and I boarded the ferry, walked up to the observation deck and took our seats.  It was a dark night and there was nothing of interest to observe outside so I turned my attention to the people inside.

I spied a rather frazzled looking mother.  She had two children with her; boys who were likely 3 and 7 years old.  They sat in a booth.  Mother put several toys on the table.  The seven year old shot out of his seat and ran to the window.  He cupped his hands around his face to look out into the dark night.

The little one slithered out of his seat and toddled after his brother. Mother yelled, “Jason come back here.”  Jason answered without looking back, “Go wif Step-hen.”

Mother closed her eyes for a moment, then opened them.  A smirk curved her lips.  “Fine,” she said.  “Stephen, come here.”

Stephen turned from the window and went to his mother.  She pointed at his seat.  He climbed on the the bench and slumped into a pouting heap.  “I hate being oldest!”

Jason climbed onto the bench and copied his brother’s posture.  “I dist hade bein’ o’dest, too!” He said.