Survival of the Fittest

She now has the prime spot. She is the biggest and the strongest. She makes her position known among the others by shifting her weight side to side as she sits and makes her self comfortable. Her head is high. All acknowledge her. She has won.
But wait. She sees something not too far away; just out of reach. She wants it. Badly. But dare she move? Is it worth giving up her spot? She tries reaching for it slyly; can she be in two places at once? Another one stirs and makes a quick, unexpected run for the spot. She sees this and retreats back to her spot angrily. The other one slows his pace, disappointed.
She then tugs on my sleeve and points at the toy she wants; not wanting to leave my lap.
If you compare my classroom to an ecosystem, you will find that the phrase "survival of the fittest" suits it well. Not struggling for life, but rather for the best of everything.
For example, my lap. Every chance I get to sit down, all the children in my class fight for the prime spot.
Some run and others crawl as fast as they can. Then comes the battle.
One girl comes running with open arms; pleading in her eyes for a hug and a chance to sit in my lap. Another crawls from just around the corner of the shelf and eyes the empty spot. One boy springs from hiding and dives head first into my lap. He has won. The others look at me with disappointment, rejection.
Some do not give up so easily. They grab my hair from behind and rub their dirty noses on my sleeve. (As if that's persuading) They pinch and cling onto my arms and some try to sit on my knees. Sometimes there are three in my lap at once, all pulling hair and pleading with their cries to be the one who gets the most attention.
If I stand up to leave, I feel like a mother hen and all these little chicks follow me around for a few minutes, crying and wondering why I have left them.
Lets shift to the lunch hour.
Groups of hungry babies wait impatiently for food. Strapped in tightly, they wiggle uncomfortably, moan, and wail as they wait for the late meal to arrive. The door opens and an uproar of screaming, over tired, and hungry babies can be heard. I begin quickly to serve food to each tray.
The first child gets his serving of food. The two beside him cannot wait any longer, and begin to reach over to their neighbor and take what they can grab for themselves. The first with food has to defend himself, and begins slapping the others away.
Snack time is no different, with the exception that today was someone's birthday! A parent brought in mini-cupcakes for the class. All eyes are big.
One patient girls sits quietly waiting to be served her treat. A cute, small cupcake, with swirly blue frosting and sprinkles is placed before her. She smiles up at me, as if to thank me for the snack. But before she knows it, her friend next to her has already snached her cupcake and had started to shove it into his mouth; blue frosting running through his fingers. Her smile turns to tears.
Back to the floor of this jungle, all seems calm.
A faint noise is heard in the corner, but all heads turn. Someone is at the door! All are drawn to the door and run towards it, as if hoping for escape. The teacher at the door has delivered his message and shuts the door promtly, leaving several disappointed babies behind.
But then all eyes are back at me. My lap is empty.