The Last Sprite, Part II

Every family has its stories. My family has the tale of the Last Sprite.

It was a hot, humid summer day. We were on a family vacation, driving around New England in our un-air-conditioned station wagon. My five siblings and I had been pleading with my parents for a drink. There is nothing left in the cooler, they told us. When we parked, we peeled ourselves off the sticky seats and dragged ourselves out into the heat to see the steamy, old Concord Bridge with my father. One of my sisters said she had a headache and stayed behind with my mother. When we returned to the car, my sister was sitting coolly in the shade, drinking the last Sprite--the drink we hadn't even known was left.

There are no photos from that day, though the memories are, of course, etched in that part of your brain that preserves moments of childhood unfairness that seem completely justified when you become a mother many years later. For years a family joke was that the book of my childhood would be titled "The Last Sprite."

Today the next generation started writing the sequel.

It was hot. Two of my sisters (not the one in the story), John, and I took Louis and four of his cousins to a fairytale-themed farm with a petting zoo. They ran and climbed everywhere and had a blast.

As Julia (who is 7) climbed out of the car, she had announced to her mother, "This is going to be one of the happiest days of my life!" And it was a lot of fun.

It was also very hot. And I--the mother who has been caught more than once without diapers and wipes--had inexplicably remembered to bring a bottle of water for Louis. An icy cold bottle of water he was only too delighted to guzzle down.

My sister--the super-prepared one who takes her four children out for lunch and manages not to lose a child, a happy meal toy, or her sanity--forgot their coordinated water bottles.

In my weak defense, I gave the bottle to Louis when we were out of sight of his cousins. But he refused to get into this photo without it. And we had been trying to get a shot of the five children in one spot all day. So I gave in and handed him the bottle.

As you see, Julia and Gregory are trying to be good sports. Mary is too hot to sit next to anyone, so she's standing behind the tea cup.

Paul (on the left) is incredulous. Gregory is too worn out to care. And Julia, in the middle, looks as if she may pass out.

Louis, meanwhile, looks happy as can be. Maybe even a tad defiant.

For the record, after we pulled them out of the tea cup, Maureen bought all of her children juice boxes. And then the unhappy one was the child who had only had water. One way or another, one of the five is sure to bring this up again one day--especially since the photos have preserved it for posterity.

Now, you may be thinking that it might have been nice if Louis had offered to share, especially since he is surely less worried about sharing germs than he is about sharing trains. But even though he may have learned something through his intensive sharing training this week, with six cousins in town last weekend and four here this week, he was drinking the water so quickly that he barely came up for air.

Sharing is top of mind this week, however. Having cousins around is so good for Louis, who is used to being an only child and an only grandchild in my parents' home.

He has to share Grandpa.

He has to share the piano.

He has to share his trains.
He has to share the sandbox.

He has to share rides on "Hot Chocolate."

Sometimes he does even more than share.

But--even though I hear from the adults that the household is in constant mediation and negotiation over toys and books all day, every day--I don't hear Louis complaining.


Louis talks constantly about his cousins, reciting their names as we drive to and from our visits.

He runs to greet them.


And he loves to have Julia and Gregory read to him.

Sometimes--and this is rare--he even gets a moment to play alone.


Or he gets some one-on-one time with an uncle or aunt.

True, when you aren't the only grandchild around, not every day is a two-ice-cream-cone day...

...or even a full serving of raw red onions day...

...but his memoir ("The Juice Box Caper"? "The Water Bottle that Damaged My Relationship with My Cousins"?) is sure to make for a fun read.