this pear is, beep!, $100


Hi late-night Wednesday people, or early-morning Thursday people if you’re technical. Oh, and hello Thursday morning people, you count too. I’m sitting here alone listening to music and writing. It’s what I do. Look out, here comes the blog…

Tonight I had a funny series of thoughts that I thought might be interesting to document as a way of exposing just how anal I can be at times.

Setting the scene: Sharaun’s off at a hair appointment and I’m down on the floor playing with Keaton. Currently, we’re playing a new game I’ve just invented: Grocery Store. I’m taking the little plastic fruits and vegetables out of her toy shopping basket one-by-one and waving them over a pretend scanner in the coffee table, of course making a “beep” of recognition each time an item is successfully scanned. As I ring up her items, I hand them to her in turn and she puts them in a bag. Suddenly, I get a brilliant idea: This game would be so much more fun if she had some pretend money to spend on each item. My brain races, the process outlined below summing up the progression:

Oh, I should get her a little wallet to hold the fake money in.

No, wait, girls have purses. Not wallets.

Oh, she totally has toy purses, several of them, in fact. I’ll go find one.

I tell Keaton to “hang on” as I set out in search of one of her play purses. Unfortunately, my efforts turn up nothing (despite the fact that I seem to be constantly tripping over things like toy purses on my lights-out nighttime walks to the bathroom). I instead find some small paper bag with string handles. What this bag could actually be for, I have no idea – it seems to be void of any function save serving as an utterly useless miniature replica of a larger and, antithetically, quite useful bag. I decide it might be good for holding money, and grab it in a hurry to get back to the living room before my daughter has lost all interest in our game of Grocery Store. On the way back, my mind drifts again:

Now I need some play money.

I could do quick green marker drawings on some printer paper and cut it up.

No, that’ll take too long… she’ll get bored before I’m done and my efforts will be wasted.

Monopoly. We have Monopoly. Monopoly has fake money in it.

I remember my brother and I used to play with that fake money all the time.

I make a hard right as my left leg clears the baby-gate blocking access to the hallway, heading for the coat closet near the door (which, interestingly, contains nary a coat… and is instead stuffed full with a vacuum cleaner, steam cleaner, and a shelf piled with our board game collection – a coat closet usage model borrowed wholly from the model my parents followed when I was growing up). All the while I’m thinking:

Do I really want to borrow money from the Monopoly game? I know that it’s probably just going to be abused and eventually lost. Then the Monopoly game will be missing money when we want to play it next.

C’mon, when is the last time we actually played Monopoly? In fact, have we ever played it?

But, the game will be missing money!

Against all my OCD urges, I grab the Monopoly box and open it up and… Horror of horrors! This is a brand new Monopoly set! My mind processes swiftly:

For crap’s sake, this money is still all wrapped up in cellophane! Each denomination containing the proper “virgin” amount of bills, each bill crisp and new and untouched!

I mean, if the thing was already well played-with and the corners of the twenties were bent and curled already… maybe I wouldn’t care so much, but I’m about to knowingly deprive future Monopoly games of hard cash. What will that future banker do?

What if that future banker is me? How will I live with the guilt? What if someone needs twenties? Will I have to do that novice crap-banker move where I buy them off other players for hundreds?!

But, Keaton… awww who the heck cares?

In the end, the above proceedings took all of a minute and I ended up having one of the most interactive playtimes I’ve had with Keaton in a long time. I sold fruit, she bough fruit; I sold vegetables, she bought vegetables. I beep-scanned them all, gave her change and even offered her friendly “good evenings” and “have a nice days,” as any cashier worth their salt would. Even though she did grossly overpay for an orange once, $500 is pretty dear for a fruit you know. I was honest though, and threw in a one-third scale plastic banana and a pressure-molded broccoli floret on the house.

Evaluating the impact to the integrity of a board game over the immediate joy of playing with my daughter… Those are the thought processes I’m up against, y’all… Lord in Heaven help me out once in a while.

Goodnight.


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3 Replies to “this pear is, beep!, $100”

  1. I totally feel your pain man. But, yes, I agree that you made the right choice, hard as it may have been.

    I think I’ll start printing up some fake money here at work just so I don’t have to make the same sacrifice you made.

    Mags

  2. OK, so now I have to comment. I have to give you kudos for all of your awesome posts, as I was led here by Maggie a couple of weeks ago. I feel like I am stalking you, because I am now addicted to this blog.

    This is a great story, and I also am thinking of printing my own money for my two-year old, Lauren. Having OCD tendencies myself, the same thoughts would have run through my head. I have quickly leanred that you can’t be such a neat freak and have a toddler at the same time, it’s impossible. But worth it!

    Give Shauraun my love, and your little Keaton is absolutely beautiful!

  3. Aha, another lurker!

    Hey Brooke, glad to see ya here. I won’t lie and say I haven’t lurked around looking at your pix (via Maggie’s blogroll) – and your little girl would sure look cute on a $20 bill. Maybe Maggie can go into business making this stuff or something…

    Take care.

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