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The Collaboration

Because we’re still learning restaurant manners, we divide the booth and conquer.  One kid slides in by the window; one adult clamps in beside.  One kid, one adult.

And I suppose it works out okay, if we don’t count the kid wiping his hands first on his own pants and then on mine.

Today, though, both kids sprang into the same side of the booth.   Their heads hovered at plate level and they shared the same behind indentation.  Our daughter cradled her arm around her brother’s shoulder and leaned her lips to his ear.  He reciprocated, and we watched the triangle of the two of them huddled like a teenage couple.

They giggled in whispers.  They gestured with their free hands.

Then with a satisfied announcement, they bounced apart.  “We’ve decided that’d we’d like our own bean burritos,” my daughter said.

And our son nodded.  “Yep,” he said. “We’re starving.”

And so it was…bean burritos for the pair.

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