A farmer has to get a fox, a chicken, and a bag of seed across a river.
He has a rowboat, and it can only carry him and one other thing.
If the fox and the chicken are left together, the fox will eat the chicken.
If the chicken and the seed are left together, the chicken will eat the seed.
How does the farmer do it?
If you think about all of these relationships together, it will make sense who is who. Dean is the fairly sly fox, presenting no real hazard to baby Leo, my sweet bag of harmless seed. My two-year old is clearly the chicken. Something about Fia tempts Dean to ruffle her feathers, so to speak - which is oh-so-easy to do. And conflict will reach high peaks, resulting in tears and feelings hurt and yelling that could wake even the most resilient bag of seed. And something about Leo - everything about Leo - requires that we must watch Fiona constantly lest she smother him with doting sisterly love. Cluck cluck. "Give him space," I hear myself saying all the time. And many times they all need to be separated lest the rowboat (my arms? my sanity?) tip over. It is a tricky balance for a novice farmer.
I am not trying to say that my children will eat each other, but if you remember the way this riddle is solved, I think about it constantly. Because I am constantly rowing up and down that river. When I fix dinner or use the restroom or run downstairs to wash a load of laundry or change or feed the baby, or (heaven forbid!) shower, I think about this riddle. I think about which combination presents less risk at that moment. I think about whether or not my darling hen has napped yet, or who she is most likely to have a conflict with, since the chicken in this riddle and a two-year-old have the most variables. I think about my bag of seed as really a bag of jumping Mexican beans, since he no longer (or ever has?) been still (having first rolled over at one week old).
I think about this riddle especially as I am about to embark on a flight to Denver next week. Matthew and I decided to take advantage of the Labor Day holiday in combination with the kids' school in-service day. I'll have the opportunity to visit my sister Gina and family in her new house while allowing Matt some time alone to work on the completion of our second bathroom without worrying about the noise and mess. Granted, it is a nonstop flight - with Matthew on one end of the flight and my sister on the other end. But three hours inside an encapsulated steel tube with the fox, chicken and bag of seed is a bit daunting. One successful run to Costco with these three last Friday, and now we're going airborne? Really?
My fellow Southwest passengers: please be easy on us. The farmer must make it across safely with everyone in tact.