Number 1, who is suspect of most things I say, (she thought the dollar coin the tooth fairy brought looked suspiciously like a dollar coin that had been on the counter earlier in the month), came home from her second day of Kindergarten brimming with excitement at the invisible buckets of happiness she'd learned about. It turns out that we each have one of these buckets. The theory goes that when someone is nice to you your bucket gets a little more full, and when you're mean to someone, their bucket gets a little more empty. Of course if you're mean to someone, your bucket gets a little more empty also, because it doesn't feel good to be mean to people.
I told her that her new theory was awesome, and then told her I'd be right back. I had come down with a serious case of the giggles, and had to flee the room so she wouldn't think I was laughing at her new theory instead of with it. As I fled, my mind wandered through all the unintended consequences. Could she arrive at the conclusion that others were responsible for filling her bucket? Could she wind up thinking she was responsible for their happiness, and honor-bound to keep trying to get their bucket full enough?
A few seconds later, I'd managed to contain my giggles, decided I was overthinking the issue, and returned to the living room to find No. 1 almost in tears. While I'd been gone, she had fallen victim to an unintended consequence of a happiness bucket I hadn't foreseen. Her little brother--Number 2--upon learning he had an invisible bucket of happiness, had immediately eaten his. Unsatiated by a single bucket of happiness, he had proceeded to eat No. 1's invisible bucket as well!
Rocked by further paroxysms of held-in laughter, I told No. 1 that I'd get her mom to help with this one. Thus far her mom had managed to maintain her composure, while overhearing all this from the other room.
Fortunately, it was fairly easy to get the whole situation set back aright. After I'd once again finished my quiet giggling in a remote corner of the house, I got 2, our local bucket connoisseur, and we found 1. I asked 2 if he could, by any chance, hurl 1's invisible bucket back up. Delighted at being asked to pretend to vomit, 2 immediately obliged. I retrieved said invisible bucket, wiped off the invisible goo with my shirt tail, and presented it back to 1, who was once again grinning from ear to ear. 1 has now taken to storing her invisible bucket in places that 2 can't reach in case he gets hungry again.
Oh, and the thing about the tooth fairy? Number 1 would never say so, since she thinks fairies of all sorts are awesome, but I'm pretty sure she suspects the tooth fairy of stealing my coin to put under her pillow.
I told her that her new theory was awesome, and then told her I'd be right back. I had come down with a serious case of the giggles, and had to flee the room so she wouldn't think I was laughing at her new theory instead of with it. As I fled, my mind wandered through all the unintended consequences. Could she arrive at the conclusion that others were responsible for filling her bucket? Could she wind up thinking she was responsible for their happiness, and honor-bound to keep trying to get their bucket full enough?
A few seconds later, I'd managed to contain my giggles, decided I was overthinking the issue, and returned to the living room to find No. 1 almost in tears. While I'd been gone, she had fallen victim to an unintended consequence of a happiness bucket I hadn't foreseen. Her little brother--Number 2--upon learning he had an invisible bucket of happiness, had immediately eaten his. Unsatiated by a single bucket of happiness, he had proceeded to eat No. 1's invisible bucket as well!
Rocked by further paroxysms of held-in laughter, I told No. 1 that I'd get her mom to help with this one. Thus far her mom had managed to maintain her composure, while overhearing all this from the other room.
Fortunately, it was fairly easy to get the whole situation set back aright. After I'd once again finished my quiet giggling in a remote corner of the house, I got 2, our local bucket connoisseur, and we found 1. I asked 2 if he could, by any chance, hurl 1's invisible bucket back up. Delighted at being asked to pretend to vomit, 2 immediately obliged. I retrieved said invisible bucket, wiped off the invisible goo with my shirt tail, and presented it back to 1, who was once again grinning from ear to ear. 1 has now taken to storing her invisible bucket in places that 2 can't reach in case he gets hungry again.
Oh, and the thing about the tooth fairy? Number 1 would never say so, since she thinks fairies of all sorts are awesome, but I'm pretty sure she suspects the tooth fairy of stealing my coin to put under her pillow.
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