Mine.
One of my son’s first words was, “Mine.” He is one-and-a-half and the youngest child of our three. He has two older sisters who have routinely snatched toys, food, blankets, and stuffed animals from his hands. And so, early on he picked up this simple word and has shouted it with ferocity far more than any other thing he has said. “Mine!” John shouts while devouring grapes. “Mine!” John announces as he points to the swing. “Mine!” John cries as his sisters rip toys from his hands. “Mine!” John asserts as he meanders through the playroom. From the throne of his highchair our high king, John, daily declares, “Mine. Mine. Mine,” as he pounds his chest and points around the room. The thing is, most of the stuff John thinks is “ mine ”, actually aren’t. And, even the stuff that is his is only his because he received it as a gift. As I look around the world right now I see a whole bunch of big people shouting, “Mine!” As tax codes are discussed in congress, people of