Sharing a Sandwich

There wasn’t enough bread for everyone. But there was enough bread for everyone but me, so I knew it would work out just fine.

I think this is sometimes an inherited condition of being a woman: so long as others’ needs are met, everything works out. That’s what my mother modeled. Is this still what we teach our girls? Being a mom and grandma of only boys, I’m not sure.

I hope not.

The grandsons were over, and it was such a gorgeous day we decided a picnic was in order. I prepped some carrot sticks, apple slices, drinks. As for sandwiches, they wanted peanut butter and jelly. Grandpa wanted turkey, and I knew he was a master sandwich maker himself, so I made sure to add tomatoes, lettuce, pickles, mayo—all the things he loved. The bread was gone, then, but I poked around in the cupboard and found a box of Triscuits with about six left.

That would work for me. I piled everything in the picnic basket and we headed out.

As we began to eat, the four-year-old noticed the crackers and grabbed the bag. They looked yummy to him, and he intended to eat them. He held the bag tightly in one hand while taking a bite of the PB&J he held in his other hand.

I ate a couple of carrot sticks.

Then I caught myself. I had the opportunity to sit here and quietly acquiesce. Or teach him something.

“Four (not his real name),” I said. “There wasn’t enough bread to make sandwiches, so the crackers are Grandma’s lunch.”

He hesitated. He really wanted those crackers. Six looked on.

Then Four had an idea. “Grandma, you can have one quarter of my sandwich!” he said, and held it out. It was already a little smooshed. Of course I took it.

“Thank you, My Sweet,” I said. Then Six offered his, too. That way Grandma would have a whole half a sandwich!

Brilliant.

Then came another sweet gesture. Four handed me the bag he had clenched in his left hand. “Grandma,” he said, “you can have all the crackers you want!”

I’d never enjoyed peanut butter and jelly so much.

And I didn’t feel guilty.

Maybe there was a lesson for Grandma here, too.

Sometimes self-sacrifice is not the right path.