Selling My Soul for $4.99 plus tax

Thursdays have turned into my cleaning day.  Especially since it seems that Thursday mornings have been rainy lately.  And I work at the Center for New Americans all day on Wednesday, leaving Jeff and Anna alone in the house. It kind of needs TLC after that.  

What to do with Anna?  Besides let her watch TV and play on the computer the whole time.  She can play by herself pretty well, but to her defense, I often end up kicking her out of the room I want to clean, especially if a hardwood floor is involved.  

Today I looked around the play room and the girls' bedroom and noted there needed to be a whole lot of picking up before a vacuum could come through, unless I wanted a broken vacuum.  I have also been thinking about how we need to get the girls back on the chores & allowance wagon when Moll is out of school too.  We have fallen off in the wake of our busy schedules this spring.  

I mentioned to Anna that she could help me clean today and before she could emit the foul stream of complaining forming on her tongue, I quickly mentioned that there would be payout for this.  I had her attention.  The agreed price: "Silly Bandz." (Insert registered trademark sign). 

How well do you know me?  What do you think my stance has previously been on this ridiculous fad that is probably not made fairly, in the USA, or in environmentally-friendly ways?

We made a list together.  She had to complete and check off all the chores to get her wages, so to speak.  We rounded up all her favorite CD's and my laptop so she could have music accompanying her in every room she needed to be in.  We do not have a home sound system, and she hates the IPod (insert registered trademark symbol again) earphones.  

She did it.  Then we gave her a bath.  Then we trekked around town in search of the elusive prize.  In several places, I didn't have to ask, because I heard another person ahead of me getting the reply "No, we're sold out."

This is NOT a position I am usually in.  I felt like I had agreed to have the mark of the beast tattooed on my forehead.  Especially every time Anna would moan "Oh I HOPE they have them here! They just HAVE to have them!" each time we were about to enter a store. 

The Target employees were so much nicer than any other store employee we had encountered, that I didn't feel so bad about purchasing one of the last packs of Shrek "collect-a-bands."  Anna's huge grin and obvious excitement took some of the sting away too. 

As I smiled into her happy little face, I remembered what it was like to walk up to the novelty store and spend my allowance on jelly bracelets.  I remember desperately wishing my shoes were really Keds (insert you know what) and not the Kmart knock-offs.  I used to want to the point of almost praying for a Swatch watch (I give up).  I remember the feeling when my Aunt Candee somehow came up with a Cabbage Patch doll in the height of that frenzy, that Kelly and I shared.  Her name was Dot Bonnie, she had red pigtails, and we took such good care of her. 

As I've grown up I've learned about marketing and consumerism and such. I try to teach my kids to spend their money in good conscience, in wise ways.  In the end, they are American kids who are friends with American kids.  Anna's mind, though incredibly sharp, has not developed to perfecting abstract thinking.  She wants what she wants and she wants Silly Bandz.  And sometimes, I think it's ok to give in and let her experience the joy of the fad. 

Don't you judge me, Earl Hickey.