Alpha kitchen buddy

Behold, wise big brother, I spy another strange thing.  See, this youngest of all the brothers, this tiny one who cannot scheme nor plot nor bend mother's ear with an argument, this runt has procured for himself a treat most delectable.  Tell me, older brother, how is it that he feasts on the sugary sweet gifts of angels, while mother attempts to pacify us with mere twigs of the earth?

Indeed, young apprentice, the injustices of this life are difficult to bear.  Mother gives us an offering called "granola," while in front of our very eyes bestowing the richest blessings of the cupboards upon the small one. Take heart, brother, for God will repay the wicked, and will make her answer for her deeds.  Let us now humble ourselves, and inquire of the small one, for perhaps he has not yet learned to guard his precious secrets.  Perhaps he will reveal to us the secret key to the bounty of the pantry.

Brothers, are you so foolish?  Do you imagine that the power I have over our mother can be stolen like a rattle from my hand?   God has again used what is of no account in this world to shame those who think themselves wise.    In my fat thighs and round belly I store the power to charm the mother.  My soft skin and baby smell uplift her mood like wine!  A smile, a giddy inhale, or a mere flash of my dimple can cause her to forsake even the IPOD for me.  I may be small, but what I have can never be taken from me. 

Bow down brothers.
I am the baby.