Petelet's World: Someone's in biiiiiiiig trouble...

Looks soooo innocent, doesn't he?

Let me tell you what's been going on around here lately.

Dan's school has an account system for lunches. Parents put money in the cafeteria account, and the students are given cards so they can tap that money on days when they want to buy lunch, or milk, or (on Wednesdays) ice cream.

In the beginning of the school year we'd decided that Dan could buy lunch one day per week, and he could buy ice cream on Wednesdays. Immediately we developed a problem. This much independence was new and exciting and waaaay too tempting for Dan. He would buy chocolate milk, or water, or a banana. Every day.

So, we had several talks, and a few losses of purchasing privileges, during the first few weeks of school. Dan really wanted to buy things when his friends bought things, and he wanted to be at the front of the lunch line (kids buying nothing are at the back of the lunch line), so this wasn't easy for Dan. He seemed to get the idea after awhile, and we occasionally rewarded him with additional buying opportunities. All was well.

When I picked Daniel up from school last Tuesday, Dan nonchalantly commented that he'd not been hungry at lunch that day.

This from the child who the day before had exclaimed (after being told that he could not do X), "I hate everything but FOOD!"

"Dan," I asked in my best Mommy voice, "Did you buy lunch today?"

"No, Mommy," replied he of the angelic face, with no sign of insincerity on his very placid features.

I let it go, and when I got home looked in his lunch box. Nothing was eaten. And he wasn't asking me for additional snacks, so I knew something was not kosher.

That night, during dinner, I looked at Dan and said, very conversationally, "Hey, Dan. You know what I'm going to do tomorrow? I'm going to go over to the school and have them print me a list of everything you've bought at the cafeteria the past few weeks."

My little boy looked at me, but said nothing.

"When I look at that list am I going to find out that you did buy lunch today?"

Silence.

Silence.

Then, a very small voice said, "Uh huh."

So, he lost buying privileges for awhile for misuse. A very effective consequence, given how desperate this child is to buy lunch. I sent a note in to his teacher telling her that Daniel had lost his buying privilege for awhile, and I'd let her know if/when it could resume. I think I'll be sending him with cash (though it's discouraged) for awhile and leave the temptation of the card out of the equation.

He also lost a few days of television (which, who knew, he loves almost as much as he loves food) for lying about it (and so effortlessly, too).

Since that night we've caught him sneaking television several times, and have had to extend the no TV consequence for those setbacks. Sneaky. Sneaky implies clever, though. Right?

Flash forward to today. I was volunteering in his classroom at the end of the day today, and he and I walked out together, holding hands. On the way to the car Daniel says, "I lost my lunchbox, so I guess I'll have to buy lunch tomorrow."

Uh huh. Thankfully we were still on school grounds, so I marched him back to the classroom and lo and behold, there's his lunchbox, on the floor under a table. I'd been occupied cleaning up a very large glue spill, so I hadn't been paying attention when he'd been packing up his backpack.

"Looky there," I said. "Looks like you won't have to buy lunch tomorrow after all."

Good try, kid.

In the car on the way home he tells me,"Mom, I wrote a note to Mrs. (Teacher) telling her that it was okay for me to buy lunch today. But I threw it in the garbage."

I found it very difficult to keep a straight face while explaining why that was naughty. Thank goodness I was driving so I could hide my face from him. I got to let it all out when I relayed the story to Pete over the phone. We haven't laughed like that since the "That fuc%#in truck is in our way!" incident.

And upon further probing, he actually did give the note to the teacher, who was savvy enough to realize that the handwriting resembled his more than it resembled mine, so she turned him down. And that's why it ended up in the garbage.

But gosh, I wish she'd sent it home.