July and August sat quietly at the kitchen table. Their mother adjusted the flame under the saucepan.
“Your soup will be ready in two minutes. I’ll put your bread in the toaster. Just be quiet, I’ve a splitting headache.”
July whispered, “Mommy loves me more than you.”
August kicked his sister under the table. “No she doesn’t.”
“Yes she does – na, na-na boo-boo!”
“No she doesn’t – na, na-na boo-boo yourself!”
They were fraternal twins: July was born in the last minutes of her namesake month while August was born shortly after midnight.
Five minutes later their mother placed the alphabet soup and two pieces of toast in front of the eight-year-olds. “I need to lie down. You two better not fight. And when you’re through you can rinse the dishes.”
As soon as they heard her lie down on the couch they took a stained napkin from their pocket, carefully straightening it out on the table beside the soup bowl. Large block letters spelled: M O M M Y L O V E S M E.
July whispered, “No using letters twice! I called it.”
August said, “OK. No splashing.”
Spoons were raised and together they said, “One, two, three – go!”
One spoon at a time was slurped. The letters were slid onto the toast and they searched for matches. If they found one it was placed on the napkin above the appropriate letter. The other noodles and vegetables were licked off the toast, one spoonful at a time until the bowl was empty.
So far, the best score was seven letters both for July and August. Since neither won, the twins agreed this proved their mother loved them both the same.
INSTANT NOODLES 