One Sentence Wednesday

Today was Biography Day at school and BIG's most dramatic, emphatic line in his speech was. . . . .

I AM Dwight D. Eisenhower.

From Skeptic to Convert

I am not fond of fads. Especially those that capture the hearts, minds, and precarious financial positions of little monkeys. When I hear these monkeys squeal that the faddish item they have just bought/traded/swapped/found in the parking lot at Target are RARE or even better, ultra rare, I run out of sight as quickly as possible to indulge in a gesture that is expressly forbidden in my house, but is oh so satisfying. . .

THE MASSIVE EYE ROLL.

Come on, friends. You know what I am talking about. They go on playdates. They are an endless source of arguments. They are hanging around your kids' wrists up to their elbows. Their rooms look like a graveyard of busted up strings of neon. Your dog is choking on them. You find them in the laundry, when you vacuum the car, and IN YOUR BED. They are the newest illustration for the word ubiquitous. They are SILLY BANDZ.


Like the tolerant tee hee Wrangler that I am, I allowed my monkeys to use their spending money to buy some of these bandz. (As an aside, can't we at least spell bandz correctly? Must we promote sheep-like behavior AND poor spelling simultaneously?)

The Big has carefully honed his collection, like the curator of the Silly Bandz Museum. They are coordinated by color, traded with much care and thought, and rarely worn lest they break. Characteristically, the Middle has worn his collection every day. He is down to one. One band.

And me? I have been riding out the storm. Watching and waiting for it to pass. Knowing that the days of the Silly Bandz are numbered, just like jelly shoes and friendship pins and the Swatch watches of yesteryear. I am above all this. I have outgrown it.

Or so I thought.

Big and I played a friendly game of tennis today. It was hot. It was heated. And then, Big took it up a notch.

"How about a bet? If I win the next game, we'll go get Rita's. If you win the next game, I'll give you a Silly Band."

"Your golden retriever? Or your chihuahua?"

"No, those are ultra rare. But I will give you a dog."

My ears perked up. I felt strangely excited. I had not a Band to call my own. And now I could get one from the Band Miser if I win a teeny little tennis game?

It was on.

And to the victor go the spoils.

I love my little doggie. But I would definitely give him up for a sparkly four leaf clover, because those are ultra ultra rare.

P.S. Big and I also went to Rita's, because I am a gracious winner.