Un-Phased

It was a very busy weekend at the Manor.  For unknown and suspicious reasons, The Monkey has been extraordinarily well behaved.  I mean really well behaved.  In fact, the behaviour has been so good it’s caused me to start talking to myself.  I’ve started muttering rhetorical questions aloud when she agrees to do what’s asked of her;  ‘What is she up to?‘  ‘What does she want?‘  ‘Has she broken something and I just haven’t found it yet?‘ ‘She knows Christmas is over, right?’  I'm convinced it's a plot against my sanity.  

There is a group of mothers who would say;  “Oh! Hee Hee. You’re so silly.  Just enjoy it while it lasts.” These mother’s would also subscribe to the ‘Phase’ philosophy of childrearing, where every torturous and sinister behaviour kids develop is ‘Just a Phase’ they grow out of.  They’ve obviously never met a diabolical mastermind like ‘The Monkey’ whose cunning knows no limits.  I also believe these moms are heavily medicated.

The weekend of Monkey goodness had indeed been earned. That’s right; we’re currently learning about ‘value’ here at the Manor.  We’ll be moving to astrophysics next.  Wow. How does one teach the lesson of value?  I decided to start with actual currency, as it provides built in cheats (if you can read the microscopic numbers on the coins) and is irrefutable.   Therefore I can evoke the very intelligent 'because that's the way it is' argument if she debates.  So, The Monkey gathered up the ‘spend’ portion of her money and off to the mall we went, to kid Mecca;  The Dollar Store.  

I loathe the Dollar Store almost as much as despise WalMart.  I can feel my shoulders creep up to my earlobes as I cross the threshold of either store.  I immediately get angry.  I counter it by moving quickly through the store, which gets me lost, which in turn, makes me more angry. It's a vicious cycle.  But, the Dollar Store was the Monkey’s choice, AND since I’m a such a good mother, I venture to where the aroma of polypropylene and polystyrene off-gassing is just part of the ambiance so my daughter could learn the value money (ignore the irony and just focus on the actual lesson).  

Once her treasures are carefully selected, we head to the cash.  The Monkey is told her purchase comes to $4.37.  She is responsible for counting out the amount and giving it to the cashier.  Another charm of the Dollar Store is their extraordinary ability to consistently hire the surliest and most unprofessional staff.  The cashier sighed, strummed her fingers and snapped her gum as my sweet, innocent, doe-eyed 6 year old reached her wee little hand into her flower shaped change purse for the correct change (confirming each amount) and dutifully placing it on the counter until all four dollars and thirty-seven cents were snatched up in a huff by the Employee of the Month. I silently fired her three times during this evolution.

The Monkey happily trotted home with her treasure.  But the question was, ‘Did she learn the value of money on our trip?’ Maybe a little bit, but I suspect that lesson will take many repeat occurrences before the true value of money starts to dawn on her.  I hope she learns it around the same time as she gets a job and wants things that cost more that $4.37.  But I’ll keep plugging away at it and hopefully, through persistence, she’ll get it.  

Another fun Monkey adventure this weekend was bundling up, acting all Canadian and going for a good old fashioned outdoor skate; at our high tech, well groomed man-made state-of-the-art Oval.  I was apprehensive.  The Monkey is like her mom and not necessarily fond of things that she can’t immediately do exceptionally well.  Last year’s skating lessons ended with several dramatic episodes involving failing and crying on the ice and all visions I had of me and my offspring enjoying a winter pastime together were dashed.  I love to skate and I wanted so badly for us to enjoy the sport together.  So I was quite excited when The Monkey listed ‘skating‘ as one of her New Year’s Resolutions.  (She also listed ‘write a book‘ and ‘act‘ - I say no more).  So off to the Oval we went.   

We arrived and began with my family’s time honoured tradition of ‘peppering’ your skates.  That’s right, you put black ground pepper in your skates.  It’s ingenious.  It keeps your feet warm while you skate.  Does it work?  Hell no.  Do your kids say things like:  “I think the pepper’s working, my feet aren’t cold”.  Uh huh. It’s yours.  A gift from me to you.  Lap One:  Cautiously skating, slowly, clinging to mom.  Lap Two: Let go of mom, skating on our own.  Lap Three:  Laughing and skating faster.  And on we went, for an hour and half in minus 14 degree weather, until limbs were numb, cheeks were red and noses running.  And, my favourite part, smiles from ear to ear.  We celebrated with a new Girly Girl Manor tradition of lattes, hot chocolates and cinnamon buns.  

Now if you ask The Monkey her favourite part about the weekend, you won’t hear tell about money and trips to Plastic-heaven.  However, she will tell you every single little detail she loved about skating at the Oval with her mom.  

So this whole value lesson;  I’ll keep plugging away at it and with persistence, I might actually get it.