It both started and ended with a trip to the library. My daughter saw the poster for a bookmark contest at the local library and decided that she wanted to enter. Over the next few weeks, she made several different bookmarks (most with princesses floating through space) and finally made a selection on which one she thought fit the “Stories in the Stars” theme the best. She carefully copied it onto the application form and had me help her spell her contact information.

At that point my 5 year old son came over and decided to make a bookmark. He created his masterpiece of happy faces floating through space in under 74 seconds, declared it perfect and walked away to play with his toy cars.

A few weeks later, I found a message on my machine saying that my child had won the bookmark contest. Yep, you guessed it. My son, who couldn’t have cared less, won the contest. I’d like to be able to say that my daughter was gracious in her defeat and was congratulatory of her brother. And I’d like to say that my son was humble in his victory and considerate of his sisters’ feeling.

Nope. Nowhere near that.

My daughter spent the next 2 hours crying. Her frustrations were real and understandable. Through the tears she told me that it wasn’t fair because she worked harder and Trevor really didn’t care. She exclaimed that she loved to draw and he didn’t like to. And then she just cried because it just wasn’t fair.

My son played it up to the fullest. He found some yellow playdoh and made himself a gold medal. He proceeded to carry it with him throughout the rest of the night since he was the best bookmark maker in the world. He casually told us that instead of Trevor, we could just call him “Winner” for the rest of the night.

My daughter retaliated by making another bookmark and taping it to the refrigerator. She wrote on the top, “The REAL Best Bookmark Ever.”

The weeks passed. No one uttered the words "bookmark" in our house. The day before the awards ceremony, I talked to my daughter about how she would want her brother to act and explained that over the years sometimes she would win and sometimes he would win. As we walked through the doors of library for the ceremony, there was a knot in my stomach. Although she had promised me, I had no idea what my daughter was going to do. I had visions of her throwing her head back with stomping her foot dramatically as she wailed “It’s not fair. Mine was better than his.”

And as always, my kids surprised me. My daughter had a big smile on her face when her brother’s name was called and clapped loudly him. She made sure that we got extra bookmarks so that Trevor could bring some to his friends. He was very gracious in his victory and told his sister that he thought she would win next year. And I couldn't have been more proud of both of them.