The elementary school has a "school store," where one can purchase inexpensive spirit items, like pencils and erasers. Items that would normally be shunned or discarded are transformed, through the simple application of a "Rockets!" logo, into coveted trinkets to be hoarded and loved.
Five is a practiced consumer, easily distracted by The Shiny, and swayed by pint-sized television pitchmen, or in this case, PTA ladies. He wants what everyone else wants, and is frequently-nay, almost always- thwarted in his attempt to acquire said objects. For, as we all know, I fail him.
In my defense, the school store is only open one day every month. Apparently, the same people who thought up the six-day cycle also set the store calendar. But this year, I actually saved the print-out detailing the hours of operation, and entered them into my datebook. This week, I transferred that information to my giant "This Week on the Farm" whiteboards, and this morning I packed his money in his lunchbox. Yes, his money. I was willing to give him three dollars-how many pencils does he need? But he wanted to bring seven, because that's what he had in his wallet. I agreed, because you know that if he went with three dollars, there would have been something worth four that he desperately wanted and couldn't buy.
And that would have been my fault.
By popular demand, this is a picture of the last thing I made Five purchase with his own cash.
And here is what I am willing to buy.
It made me laugh to line them up, because the shortest ones are mine. I've already bought new ones for Three because he got taller, dammit.
Have a merry, comfy day!