Spaghetti and Chopsticks

We have been gradually building a friendship with the family of a little girl who rides the bus with Spilly. They've had her over after school several times, and often call an hour or so after she's gotten there, to ask if she can stay for dinner as well. So tonight we invited Spilly's friend (and the friend's older brother, who is a highly interesting seven-year-old Sarah Brightman and Titanic fanatic) to come over to our place after school and stay for dinner.

Hubby and I hung out in the kitchen, listening to them play in the backyard and smiling as the game got more and more elaborate. It was entitled, "Nature Trail," but we couldn't figure out exactly how that figured into people fainting and running around shouting, "Daddy, where are you?" It was a nature trail fraught with danger at any rate.

Supper was spaghetti. From the kitchen I called out, "Now, does everyone want me to cut up their spaghetti, or do they want to keep it long?"

"Long!" the friends said.

"Short!" said Spilly.

So out came the long and short spaghetti. One child began to eat. The other two looked somewhat gloomily at their plates.

At last, the older brother said, "Don't you have any chopsticks?"

Hubby jumped up and said, "Yes, we do!" Years ago, we had bought a pack of plastic chopsticks in Chinatown in Toronto. Out they came from the china cupboard.

"Can I have chopsticks too?" Spills asked.

In the end, we all had chopsticks. And let me tell you, spaghetti is very fun to eat in this way. It also allows you to make outrageous slurping noises. And it enables the new friends to laugh at our family that has never before eaten spaghetti with chopsticks.

This is clearly a friendship with great potential.