The Meatball

It was the Lunar New Year again. Mom and Dad invited auntie Wang and her families over for dinner. Auntie Wang has a daughter and a son. Ying, the son, was five years old. Although I was six years older than him, I was never able to tame him.

Mom spent the whole morning in the kitchen preparing for food for the guests. My mouth was filled with saliva when Mom set the jumbo pork meatballs in front me. After Dad give a simple New Year’s toast, everybody started grabbing food by chopsticks except Ying. Instead he was looking at his mom and waiting for the food. My eyes were locked by a juicy meatball. I reached out my chopsticks and tried to pick it up. Unluckily it slipped from my chopsticks since it was huge. The second time I stuck my chopsticks into the meatball. Right before I pulled it up, Ying started yelling at me, “It’s mine. It’s mine.” My hand froze in the air for a second, then I heard Mom’s voice, “Guang, you’re the big sister. Give that meatball to your cousin.” “Ma,” I insisted, “There’re so many in the plate. Why does he just want mine?” Mom stood up, walked over to me. She snatched the chopsticks from my hands and dropped the meatball in Ying’s bowl. Ying smiled at me with his little slanted eyes. Although auntie Wang then picked the biggest meatball for me, my appetite was totally gone.