We had no choice.
It had to be even.
Everything given out just so:
Ounces of chocolate milk in tupperware cups
or turns with the one pink hula hoop,
the number of M&M's for six dirty hands
or wedges of apple pie from an undersized dented tin.
The clamor for more followed.
The stifled tears followed.
The too few minutes on Mom's tired lap followed
before she'd nudge one of us children
aside to make room for another.