My daughter and I like to lay on the couch and have a prolonged snuggle when she gets home from school. It starts off with catching up about the day's events and usually degenerates into a pinching tickle fest. This past week, she told me that she had started up her shop again at recess. I was surprised, because she hadn't reopened her shop since she closed it last spring in a fit of defiance.
My poppet likes to create micro-economies on the playground. Sure she plays and runs around, but then... she gets dangerously bored (wonder where she gets that one from), creates a need, develops a business and suddenly there's a whole economy maturing during recess. A year and a half ago in the fall, she collected sticks and found a few bricks behind the carriage house. She set up her shop on a stone bench and began sharpening them by rubbing them on the corners of the bricks. The other children gathered around fascinated, asking if they could have one. She replied, " Sure! But you have to give me one new stick and help me sharpen 2 sticks and then I will give you one. They lined up in droves and before you knew it she had an organized group of employees.
Sharp sticks were all the rage amongst her classmates. The boys threw them at each other and the girls drew in the dirt with them or used them to create what Anne dubbed "flower sticks," which was basically flowers and leaves impaled upon the pointy end. I was a little worried about all the sharp stick business, but she assured me that although they took a great deal of effort to sharpen, the tip snapped off almost immediately. With a wicked gleam in her eye, no less...
Then, abruptly one day, she reorganized her work area and announced they were switching over to rocks wrapped with leaves and tied with long grass. Her work force had been drifting off to play football or tag, but now they were re-energized! Again, the cost of a wrapped rock was either a pile of lovely leaves or a well shaped rock. The boys threw them at each other and the girls traded them or made decorative piles. I know what you're thinking: is anyone watching these kids? Good question.
Then trouble struck, in the form of a little girl named Lizzie. My poppet came home one day, and when I asked her how the shop was doing, she announced, "I closed the shop today! It's all over! I'm done!"
"But, honey, why? You were having so much fun!"
She replied, " It's because of Lizzie and her stupid face."
"What happened?" I asked.
"Lizzie came over and said she wanted to own the shop with us ("us" being her and her 3 foremen/girlfriends) and I said no, but she could work for us. Then she threw a fit and went to the teacher and the teacher said it would be nice if we included Lizzie and her stupid face."
"I don't understand. Then what happened? Did she not play nicely with you? Why is the shop closed?"
"Mommy, Lizzie is mean and boring and there is no way I am sharing one inch of my shop with her and her stupid face. She's not the boss of me!"
"Could you please stop saying that about her face? It's mean," I said firmly.
"You haven't seen her face."
"ANYWAY, back to the shop. What happened?"
"I smiled at Mrs. O'Brien and told her the shop was boring and I wanted to play kickball and not do the shop anymore. So she told us to run along. I played kickball. And too bad for Lizzie and her face!"
I tried to reason with her, but she did have a point. I remember kids like that; kids who tend to pee in the pool and spoil your fun. The other kids tried to get her to reorganize her shop but she refused. And now I am beginning to think it was strategy all along...
Back to the couch.
"That's wonderful, baby! I am so happy you reopened your shop! What are you making this time?"
"Well, this time we are making wooden flower bowls. It's a lot more work. I pried some of the long nails out of the gutters on the carriage house...
(Me: blink. blink. OMG)
"... and what we do is get a curvy piece of bark and use the sharp end of the gutter nails to dig out a long flat dent. Then we take the bark dust we dug out, wet it with spit, refill the hole and stick a flower to it. Everyone wants one."
"So your girlfriends are helping you? Like Maggie, Elizabeth and Caroline?"
"Yep. But we are all bosses now, and it rotates. So, like, today I was a boss and the other girls played tag, and then tomorrow Caroline is boss and then Elizabeth and Maggie. It's too much to be boss every day," she replied wearily.
"But who's working? I mean, who's making the flower bowls?" I asked.
"Oh, everybody. Pretty much the whole third grade. But that's way too many workers to watch, so I told them they can all only work one day a week. So that rotates too. "
"And what about Lizzie? Is she bothering you girls?"
"No. We play tag with her so she doesn't want to mess with my shop. This way I can keep an eye on her. So I get to do both. And Lizzie isn't so bad as long as I don't have to talk to her."
"Hmmm... interesting. What do you charge for a flower bowl?"
"One sharp stick." She smiled. "The flowers will all be gone soon, and then we will be selling sharp sticks again. And I'll have PLENTY."
"Please tell me there isn't a huge pile of sharp sticks in your locker. I will kill you. You could get in big trouble for that, young lady!"
"Oh, no. I found some sand bags that they use to hold down the basketball hoop. I sorta emptied one out and put my sticks in it. Then I had some of the boys dig me a hole and I put the bag in it and put a big rock on top of it. It's totally safe."
Then she ran off to make herself a snack and color. And I sat there on the couch, with my head in my hands...contemplating third grade and sharp sticks and Lizzies's face and my poppet's need for domination and organization. And my mind settled eventually on The Lord of the Flies, which she mercifully won't read until the fifth grade. God help me.
~dana
