Sharing the Umbrella

On the way home from the park, the sky suddenly turned grey. The first drop fell — plip. Then plip-plip-plip. Then the rain poured down hard.

Baby Mo opened his small yellow umbrella. But it was only big enough for one. And beside him, Baby Ais was starting to get wet, her clothes clinging, her hair dripping.

For a moment, Baby Mo hesitated. This umbrella was his. If he shared it, he'd get a little wet too.

He looked at his shivering twin sister. Then he remembered Umi's words: "The strong one looks after others."

"Come here, Ais!" cried Baby Mo, pulling his sister close. He tilted the umbrella — covering Baby Ais more than himself. One of Baby Mo's shoulders got soaked. But he didn't mind.

They walked slowly, huddled under one little yellow umbrella, their small feet hopping over puddles. Baby Ais laughed. Baby Mo laughed too. The rain didn't feel cold anymore when they faced it together.

At the door, Umi was already waiting with a towel. She saw Baby Mo's one wet shoulder and understood at once what had happened.

"Why is Mo's shoulder wet, sweetheart?" asked Umi, though she already knew the answer.

"Mo gave more of the umbrella to Ais," answered Baby Mo simply. "Ais is smaller." (Though they were twins, just a few minutes apart.)

Umi hugged them both tightly. A wet shoulder can be dried with a towel. But a heart that learns to put others first — that warms the whole house.

None of you truly believes until he loves for his brother what he loves for himself.

That night, Baby Mo sneezed a little. But he smiled under his blanket. Because sharing an umbrella, it turned out, was far warmer than being dry alone.