Battle of the sweetcorn

It's hot. It's a garden day. And it's a barbeque day. Dig goes off to the local Co-op with Tiger to wait in the queue with his standard issue of two packets of vege sausages. They'll probably start to defrost by the time he reaches the till. At home, Grit's cooking potatoes for a potato salad. Shark and Squirrel are playing in the garden.

This is the quiet before the storm.

When Dig gets back everyone buzzes into the kitchen, and out from the bag pops four yellow sweetcorn. And then the trouble starts. Shark wants to help herself to one sweetcorn, to smear it in butter and wrap it in foil, ready for the barbeque. And this is OK with me, and with Dig and with Squirrel. But not with Tiger. She wants to hand out the sweetcorn. This is her sweetcorn. She has stood in a queue to get it. And she's not letting go of it.

And now the shouting starts. And the grabbing. And the tug of war with Shark and Tiger each holding onto one end of the sweetcorn. Within a few minutes the sweetcorn looks mangled and inedible, but no-one's letting go. Everyone's shouting something or another, when down comes Tiger's fist, hard, on Shark's shoulder. Shark springs back and Tiger runs off. What she plans to do with her trophy, no-one knows.

There's no barbeque tonight. There is, however, mummy Grit on Amazon, ordering a copy of The Explosive Child by Ross W. Greene.