When Amelia was in kindergarten she would ask everyday if she could take a toy to school. And everyday I would tell her no and give her some reason I thought was solid as a rock and sufficient enough to dissuade her from ever asking again.
Like, it could get lost.
Or, someone might steal it.
I was not thrilled about teaching her that children steal but we live in hard times, people. Reality is a killer.
How about, it could get lost or broken or even slightly maimed?
All great reasons to not want to take your toys to school.
None of it worked. She really wanted to take a toy to school and she was relentless in her asking.
Finally one day I put my foot down and said something along the lines of "You are never ever ever taking a toy to school and don't ask me again!"
She didn't ask again.
One morning, before school, she disappeared into her room with her backpack. I new something was amiss. I'm super sleuthy like that. However, I didn't get to use my amazing detective powers for her sneaky skills are so lacking she made my job a piece of cake.
She came out of her room and announced, "Okay! Okay! Okay! I DID NOT just put a toy in my backpack." As she proceeded to wander around the room, swinging her arms ever so casual.
If ever there was a backhanded confession more blatant than this they would have made a Dateline special about it.
"Oh really? Let me see your backpack please." I ever so casually responded to her grand announcement with a giant smile on my face, which now that I think about it could have been induced by pure evil, and not general amusement.
For I sniffed I was on to something. Something that might allow me to use my ultimate super power. And that is consequencing the disobedient.
She did not want to bring me her backpack and my insistence ignited a meltdown in her so enormous I wondered what toy she had smuggled into her backpack. It had to have been something so terribly important to her and of great worth
And it was.
It was Mini. Her beloved miniature stuffed Terrier.
Anyway, what is the point of this story?
There is no point. I am at the beach.