Little Brats & Rotten Eggs

“Come on, Ellie, give it here.” Justin held his hand out toward his little sister, waiting for her to return the building block she took.

“Uh uh, I wanna build, too,” Ellie replied, gripping the block in her chubby little hand.

Justin heaved a big sigh of frustration. “I’ll never get my castle built if you keep taking the blocks away. Now give it back—please!”

Ellie looked at her brother with an impish grin. With the block still held tightly in her fist, she stood up and started running around in circles.

“Ellie! You’re being a little brat!” Justin shouted.

“A bwat? Okay. I fly like a bwat! Squeak, squeak, squeak!” Ellie flapped her arms, pretending to be a bat. But Justin didn’t think it was funny. He was upset, and he’d called her a brat to get back at her, not to joke around. Justin stormed out of the room and went to find something else to do.

Later that day, Jessie came to play at Justin’s house. “Let’s play on the swing set,” she suggested.

“Okay! Last one there is a rotten egg!” said Justin as he sprinted toward the swings.

The two friends raced across the yard past the sandbox where Ellie was playing. Ellie quickly climbed out of the sandbox and ran toward the swings, too.

“I’m gonna slide first, then we can have a swing race,” Justin told Jessie as he climbed to the top of the slide then—whooosh! He slid down to the bottom.

“That was great, Justin,” said Jessie. “You went super fast.” Jessie wandered over to a swing and sat down. Justin followed her. He was just about to sit on the other swing when Ellie dashed over, grabbed the swing, and lay down over the top of it.

“Ellie, you have to get off,” Justin said sternly. “Jessie and I are going to race.”

Ellie held tightly onto the swing. “I don’ wanna be a wotten egg,” she explained. Then she pointed at Justin. “You’s a wotten egg.”

Justin rolled his eyes. “No, Ellie, you’re the rotten egg ’cause you won’t give me my swing. I need that swing. Don’t be such a . . . a . . .” Justin tried to think of another mean name to call his sister. She was making him angry.

“A stinky-doodle?” Jessie suggested.

“Yeah,” Justin nodded. “Don’t be such a stinky-doodle,” he said as he swiped at the swing, trying to get it away from his sister.

Ellie stuck out her lower lip. “I’s not a tinky-dooble!” She stomped her foot and ran toward the house.

“Yes, you are!” Justin shouted angrily as he sat down on the swing.

“She just wanted to play with us, you know,” said Jessie.

“I know.” Justin shrugged. “But she’s been a pest all day, and now finally she’s gone, so we can have our race.” But suddenly, Justin didn’t feel much like racing anymore.

It wasn’t long before Justin’s mom called, “Come on in for lunch!” The kids slid off the swings and headed inside.

Ellie was already sitting in her highchair at the table. “Jussin,” she said, “you’s a tinky-dooble!”

Jessie giggled. “It’s funny she’s still thinking about that.” But Justin didn’t find it funny at all. He was still upset with Ellie for bothering him.

Mom set plates on the table and sat down to eat with the kids. “Mommy,” Ellie declared, “Jussin’s a wotten egg.”

Mom put her sandwich down. “What? Ellie what are you talking about?”

Ellie smiled a big grin and pointed at her brother. “He’s a tinky-dooble, too! Tinkytinky!”

“Ellie, that’s not nice to call people names,” Mom scolded. Then she looked at Justin. “Do you know where she heard those names?”

Justin swallowed hard. Suddenly, his sandwich didn’t taste too good. “I, uh, guess I called her those names.”

“Hmmm,” Mom said, tapping her fingers on the table. “Why did you use mean names like that? You know that’s not right.”

“But, Mom,” Justin explained, “she’s been pestering me all day. First, she took my blocks so I couldn’t finish my castle—”

“—An’ he said I’s a bwat,” Ellie interrupted.

“Then she got in the way when Jessie and I wanted the swings. I guess I just got mad and wanted to make her leave me alone.”

“I see,” said Mom. “Did you know that Jesus said calling each other names in anger is just as wrong as murder?”

The kids looked up in surprise. “You mean like killing someone?” asked Jessie.

“That’s awful! We’d never do that,” Justin said.

“Of course, you wouldn’t,” Mom continued. “But calling each other names because you’re mad comes from a heart of anger, just like murder does.”

Justin looked down at his plate. “I was angry and tried to hurt her feelings,” he admitted.

Mom reached over and patted him on the arm. “Jesus doesn’t want us to hurt others. He said we should show love and kindness instead.”

Justin nodded. “But how can I when Ellie’s doing stuff that makes me mad?”

“Maybe you could trade her a different toy when she takes the one you want,” Jessie suggested.

“Good idea,” Mom said. “And speak kindly. But if those ideas don’t work, come get help from me or Dad, and we’ll figure something out.”

Justin looked at his little sister. “I’m sorry I called you mean names, Ellie.”

Ellie smiled back. “Dat’s okay, Jussin. I twy not to be a bwat—squeak-squeak!”

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