Queen for a Day

I don't cut myself big slices of cake. When sharing a sandwich, I take the smaller half. It's something I think about, actually, because when the last delicious dumpling I've been eyeing up disappears, my stomach gives me a hard time. "That could have been yours," it has grumbled more than once.

But those moments I decide to be bold? When I snag the room with the best view or move into the spot at the front of the line, it's the guilt that gets me. 

This morning, I was faced with a choice. A colleague greeted me at my classroom door with a literal cake and a knife. It was a king cake, striped with the green, purple, and gold of Mardi Gras, and I would be the first to try for the baby. Knowing that my luck for the entire year hung in the balance of this slice, I should have taken one the size of Virgina, but I didn't. 

I assessed my prospects, turned the plate around a few times, and picked my spot. 

"Cut a bigger piece," my friend encouraged when she saw how small a sliver I was taking. "You won't have a chance."  

Lifting it up, we were shocked to see the crown of the baby's head peeking through. 

"I got it!" I exclaimed.

The celebration continued later when my friend visited my class to announce the news. I wouldn't have shared my success, but I basked in glory when she prompted students to write about the good fortune they hoped I'd receive OR one reason they're fortunate to be in my class. There's no telling if any more luck is heading my way, but based on those notes, I'm off to a great start.

Now I'm left with a dilemma. Today, I was rewarded for taking the smaller slice, but it doesn't often work out that way. What size piece should I take tomorrow?