Isabel carefully arranged the chocolates on a plate. “They’re Ferrero Rocher,” she announced grandly.
Charles was unimpressed as he continued to read his book.
Finally, she seemed satisfied with the presentation. “Would you like a chocolate, Charlie?” She held out the plate.
The five-year-old looked at the empty, scratched, green plastic plate, then at his four-year-old sister. “No thank you Isabel. I don’t like pretend chocolates. I only like real ones.”
“You’re no fun,” she snorted as she carefully picked up air between her fingers to feed one of her carefully-arranged ‘chocolates’ to the teddy bear.
Charles was unimpressed as he continued to read his book.
Finally, she seemed satisfied with the presentation. “Would you like a chocolate, Charlie?” She held out the plate.
The five-year-old looked at the empty, scratched, green plastic plate, then at his four-year-old sister. “No thank you Isabel. I don’t like pretend chocolates. I only like real ones.”
“You’re no fun,” she snorted as she carefully picked up air between her fingers to feed one of her carefully-arranged ‘chocolates’ to the teddy bear.
