The purple crayon, for two

This morning there was only one purple crayon still whole. Baby Mo grabbed it first, Baby Ais pulled at it. Two little hands, one crayon, and an "Ais's one!" — the first time Umi heard it that clearly.

Umi's reflex was to just take the crayon and buy a new one this evening. But I held back. I sat on the floor, level with their eyes, and said softly: "Let's take turns. Mo colours the moon first, then the crayon goes to Ais for the stars."

It took three repeats. But Baby Mo finally let the crayon go into his sister's hand — slowly, unsure, but he let go. Baby Ais said "ankyu" (her version of thank you). And Umi quietly held her breath.

The best of you are those with the best character.

Sharing isn't something they're born with. It's taught, one purple crayon at a time. Umi didn't solve it for them — I just showed the path, then gave them room to choose it themselves.