Sage

"Pass the sage," I demanded, holding my hand out behind me. This was a delicate situation we had here. The Christmas Soup was at a crucial stage, and this was Morgan's first Christmas with the family, and I would not allow him to have imperfect Christmas Soup.

Morgan walked over to our mother. "Pass the sage!" he repeated in his piping voice. A moment later, he clambered up onto his chair and handed me the sage. He grinned at me. He was missing three teeth, making him seventy-five cents richer.

Initially, I hadn't been to jazzed when Bob and Nancy, the 'rents, had told me they were adopting some kid. I had spent eighteen years being the youngest, and wasn't really looking to pick up a younger brother. But Bob and Nancy hadn't responded well to the whole empty nest thing. I wanted to come home from school and not have fingerpainting on the walls of my bedroom.



They went and brought home Morgan and he was absolutely darling.

Before his arrival, I hadn't been aware that five-year-olds could be so terrifying. And there was some frightening quality about how he could be so disarmingly cute even when he was doing something awful, like accidentally knocking a mug of hot coffee onto your lap, knocking bookshelves over early in the morning, or generally causing the kind of mayhem unique to young boys.

He just did this kind of ashamed smile think and--damn, but he was cute.

After I put in the sage, I turned to Morgan with a very serious look on my face. He instantly grew perfectly somber. Kids were awfully neat at five. "Morgan," I said. "This is the most important part of the Christmas Soup. Do you think you can do it?"

He looked worried, but nodded. Lizabeth, the sister, rolled her eyes at me while pouring another cup of coffee. Lizabeth always got a little frustrated at my little dramas. I think this was mostly because Lizabeth knew Mark, her husband, wanted kids soon, and that idea kind of freaked her out, even though she wanted kids, too. Morgan was a spooky reminder for Liza.

"You," I said to the kid, ignoring the sister, "get to have the first taste of the Christmas Soup, and tell me if it's any good, okay?"

"Oh, Lily," he said, in a perfect imitation of my mother. "You're the silliest sister ever."