A lesson in getting what you want

Babess kept waving towards the tables, groaning with food.  With her on my hip, I made my way through the crowd carefully so as not to jostle any of Gran’s friends.  Many of them tried to engage me in conversation, only to desist with a smile as Babess made her intentions increasingly clear – and loud.  “That!  That!” she pointed.

I selected a delicious-looking ham and tomato sandwich and gave it to her, relieved that I might be able to politely chat with a second-cousin I hadn’t seen in years.  Babess gave me a pointed look, and a very audible “Pah!” and threw it to the ground.  I rescued it before it would even have had time to bounce, if it hadn’t been such a lovely fresh sandwich, and carefully offered it again.  She gave me The Look once more, so I ate it myself.  She pointed at the cakes.  “That!  That!”

I selected one that looked reasonable for a small child, and broke off a small piece for her.  Again, she threw it away in disgust.
“What?!” I asked.  “You wanted cake!”  She was still pointing at the plate.  A friend of Gran’s, who had probably done the same for me when I was the same age, lifted up the entire platter and gave her the choice.

Without hesitation, Babess selected the pinkest and stickiest cake in the country.  It was some kind of slice, with pink icing and a large pink jelly filling.  She held it aloft in triumph, before biting into it with gusto.  She held it just like you would a sandwich, in both hands, and it was about half the size of her head.  Pink jelly went everywhere.

Gran’s friend laughed and laughed, and we joined in.  Small children are meant to be sticky, after all, and Gran – a very strong-minded woman – would have applauded Babess’ determination.

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