120

I was duped. It all started as a routine trip to the store for bottle liners since Zach is still receiving supplementation with formula. A $5.00 package of bottle liners needed to feed my youngest son sent my eldest into a tizzy. Zach got something from the store, so he had to have something,too. After all, my failure to buy him something had to mean I just didn't love him like I do his little brother.

I gave in. I shoudn't have. At least I set limits this time: I was only spending $5-6 on his brother, so whatever he chose had to meet the same guideline or it wouldn't be fair to Zach! Ha! I thought I beat him at his own game and was feeling pretty smug about it.

We had a discussion earlier in the week about crayons. A kid in his class has the 120-count Crayola box. He only had the 96-count box. Of course those 96 crayons were not his only supply. We buy new crayons about 6 times a year, not counting the several boxes that are on the list of required school supplies at the start of the new school year. We actually have a medium-sized Rubbermaid tote full of crayons in various states: peeled and sharpened, dull, new and sharp. But Heaven forbid that a child in his class had something he did not have. So he wanted the 120-count box with his $5-6 spending limit. Fine, whatever.

I should've seen through it. I told him that I did not want to see 120 crayons broken and peeled all over his floor.

Of course I have not been allowed to climb stairs because of my healing incision. Yesterday, the restricition was lifted and so I wandered down there and I saw it! Berber carpet that appeared to be tie-dyed because of all of the fine crayon shavings ground into it. 120 crayons' worth of shavings, to be precise. Of the crayons he had to have, lest he feel unloved. Seriously. I could've killed him. Or at least done something that made our local child protective workers work a little harder for their money.

So what is the significance of this? I will not be fooled again. I will not fall victim to trickery at the hands of a crafty 8-year-old. And the crayons he has now will have to do him for quite some time. Hell, I may even embarrass him completely and send used crayons at the start of the school year. I can be Mommie Dearest if I have to be!