I see where you are coming from, Grace

This morning, in parentally monitored, but not necessarily sanctioned, view, Andra politely asked Grace if she could have two Mexican candy “Crayons” to take to school. Grace offered Andra the candy in exchange for $1 per candy. Andra agreed, and I watched as the money exchanged hands.

On the way home, today, Grace started angrily and violently accusing Andra of stealing one of the candies. It took one stop on the side of the road and several minutes to gather the train of irrational thought – Grace acknowledged receipt of the $2, but somewhere, she lost $1, and since she only had $1, in her mind, Andra stole that other candy, and needed to pay Grace for it (again). Andra’s angry and violent response addressed the fact that she had already paid for the candy, but Grace was having none of it. Grace pulled out her backpack, showed us the $1 and insisted that since she just had the $1, that Andra was a stealer!

It was quite mind blowing to understand how Grace thought losing the $1 was Andra’s problem.

And Mom, Dad, I think you know where I am going with this. After a little contemplation on the firestorm in the backseat, I recalled a financial transaction with my father when I was a young adult – one where I wanted a book, and had my money. Dad paid for the book with the groceries and asked me to pay him my money (to reimburse him) but I was adamant that this would be paying for the book twice. TWICE! If you could imagine, with MY hard earned money! He was ridiculously tolerant, I do recall, in what had to have earned him a hall of fame nomination if it had been taped. He discussed and explained the whole drive home. I seem to recall him taking pencil to paper at the kitchen table to try and help me visualize. I think he enlisted Mom to continue the explanation. They really tried hard and if you yelled, please don’t tell me now, because mostly, I remember you being awfully patient. Not that I believed you for a second, of course. MY hard earned money! Pay for the book twice. As if.

Grace didn’t believe me either, but I just sent her to her room for a while before coaxing her out for a Smore’a dilla to get her blood sugar up a little (Recipe: melt marshmallows and chocolate chips in a tortilla). So far, so good, and it hasn’t come up again. I am gathering forces in the event the question comes up again, so get ready Dad. I may just send her over.