One of our neighbors had an “Antiques, primitives, and gifts” sale. I love that she used the word primitives. Anyway, yesterday everything was for sale and I got a table for free that was priced at $8 and it is made of cherry wood. Today the sale was over, but she left a FREE box by the side of the road. I let the kids rummage through. Noah was pretty adamant about being able to look in the box across the street without me hovering over him. So I came home.
Noah’s loot was an ashtray. I don’t know what was in that box, but I did not expect my son to come home with an ashtray. I was not sure I really wanted him to have an ashtray. He assured me that it was “just to put stuff in, Mom.” I told myself it’s fine, and that having an ashtray would not automatically turn him into a smoker, and I guess it is good for holding stuff. Then, as I was preparing supper I heard Noah, “I want a square. I really, want a square.”
My worst fear had come true. Not only did having an ashtray make him want a cigarette, it was also teaching him slang. Just as I decided that the voodoo ashtray must go, Noah walked into the kitchen with the sweetest look on his face holding a Now and Later right next to his big, brown puppy eyes and asked,
“Mom, can I please have a square? Please, I really want a square.”
“No, Noah. No you cannot.”