THE TRADE

On Friday, my daughter got to pick three items out of her teacher's treasure chest.
"Look what I got!" she said proudly the minute she got into the car. She held out two fruit-flavored Jolly Ranchers (hard candy) for my inspection.

"Excellent choices," I replied. "But I thought you got to pick three things," I continued, slightly confused. My math skills are not so good, but I can still count up to ten. On occasion.
My daughter told me that she gave her third Jolly Rancher to the girl standing next to her in the parent pick-up line.

"That was very nice of you," I said proudly. I commended my daughter for doing something that I probably wouldn't do myself. When it comes to candy, I have a sharing problem. "Look what she gave me in return!" my daughter replied, opening up her backpack. Inside was the contents of an entire pet store. It was hard to keep the car on the road.

"You made a very good trade, but you are going to have to give all of those animals back to your new friend," I told her. Everyone the car had a hard time understanding why I would demand such a senseless thing. "I don't know what to tell you other than that I am a mean mom," I told the angry mob. "You owe me a piece of candy then," my daughter said as she handed over the booty.

I nodded my head. That request seemed rational. "Actually you owe me fifteen Little Pet shop animals," she said, changing her mind. I shook my head ever the negotiator.

GIFTED

Yesterday, the school guidance counselor pulled my kids out of class and gave them all IQ tests. "Their academic performance indicates that they are strong candidates for the gifted program," the woman told me a few days ago on the phone.

"I am so mad at you for making me take that test," snapped Drama Girl when I picked her up from school. I pretended not to know what she was talking about. "The guidance counselor showed me the papers that you signed," she sneered. "I answered all the questions wrong on purpose!" barked Mrs. Priss, "And I got up to use the bathroom seven times during the test."

"Well done," I replied. "I do enough work at school," Drama Girl complained. "Why would I want to do more?" She made a good point. Early this morning, the guidance counselor called me with the results of the exam.

According to the test rubric, Mrs. Priss has below average intelligence. Drama Girl is bored out of her mind at school, but she probably doesn't notice because according to the IQ test, she only has three brain cells.

I seriously don't know whether to laugh or cry.

The Spider and the Fly

Today my kids found a spider. It was black and white and completely harmless. The poor guy was stuck inside Mrs. Priss’ hood to her power wheels. We opened the lid to move the battery from one toy to the other. (Yes I know I am the worst mother for not having two batteries. I have been told this already!)

I yell “SPIDER” and the three girls scrambled. My son turned with plastic sword in hand and went into his best defender mode. “Mom!” he yelled, “I save you”. Plastic sword in hand he went swinging at the grass in a failed attempt to kill the thing that scared me.

I laughed I couldn’t help it. Leave it to the boy to be the fearless one. While his mother, teenage sister, and 5 yr old sister run for the hills. “Just leave it alone,” I told the brave boy. Ever since he could walk I would playfully raise my voice and proclaim “Little man save me.” While Daddy would tickle me. As he grew I taught him not to hit girls, that girls were to be hugged and kissed, and that he was the “man” when daddy wasn’t home.

Now at almost 3 he shows me what I instilled “I save you girls” he recites to me. I look over at my teenage daughter who I have taught to be independent and not rely on a man. I sigh to myself and she shakes her head. “We could take it to the zoo," my daughter proposed distracting me from my guilt.

I pat her on the head. “I am sure it’s gone sweetie,” I say. “I know someone who once ate a spider,” says the teenager as she walks into the house in disgust. The younger ones eyes widen and Pandora’s box has been opened. I thanked the girl for her knowledge and pushed my children toward the inside with bribery, “Let’s have ice cream.” They run inside and I sigh with relief for avoid yet another disaster.