The Cost of Living and Other Stories

The kids have had the habit lately of cutting out little paper squares and pretending they are money. They will distribute the wealth evenly between them, then they will buy things from one another, exchanging a certain number of little white slips for whatever major purchases they have secured. Somehow, unbeknownst to me, they managed to bring a wad of cold hard cash with them into the car this morning on the way to church. I learned a lot about economics today listening to the bargaining going on behind me as we drove in. I learned that houses typically run $1 each, but if you want to upgrade to a tree house you'll have to shell out a whole $3. Various items on display outside the car window were suitably priced and purchased and the wheels of the free market system kept pace with our minivan. I had to smile, however, when I overheard N quote L a price that convinced me he has a lucrative career in marketing ahead of him:

L: N, How much does this cost?

N: All the money you have!

And speaking of career choices, at lunch today L announced she wanted to be on television. "That's what I've always wanted to do," she confided, betraying a passion that only 5 years of intense and ceaseless longing can acquire.

"What do you want to do on television?" I asked.

"I want to be a weatherman."

"Why?"

"So I can guess the weather."

A week or so ago L had a special treat - it was grandparents day at Kindergarten! She was able to show off Grandma and Poppa to all her Pre-K friends, and got to work on all kinds of fun projects while Grandma and Poppa "helped."





The day went better than I expected. Poppa only got one time-out and evidently Grandma started behaving herself a lot better when Mrs. Ellis threatened to send her to the principal.

I was working on some stuff in my office this evening when Stacy came in, clearly trying to practice some sort of "serenity now" yoga breathing technique. "I'm not going to look," she said. "I'm just not going to look."

"What's up?" I asked, knowing if she didn't want to look, I probably didn't want to ask.

"L and N are outside in their freshly changed clothes, playing in the sandbox that has been sitting with the lid open over the last three days of rain. I've decided I'm just not going to look." She can be wise like that some times.

Knowing that when my wife says, "I'm not going to look," it really means, "I want you to go deal with it." As I approached the backdoor it was already quasi-twilight and I heard a chant coming from the darkening backyard that made me not want to look too - the harmonious strains of the ever-favorite "Naked" song. ("It's naked, naked time! It's naked, naked time!" repeated ad nausium, sung typically after bathtime while prancing through the house in their birthday suits.) I bolstered my resolve and looked out nevertheless and saw two fairly luminescent ghosts prancing about the backyard for all the crows to see. Evidently wet sandboxes and clean clothes do not make the best of companions, even in our kids' estimations. Realizing I had a perfect opportunity to capture some wonderful blackmail fodder for future boy- or girlfriends, I had no choice but to go find the camera.