As many of you know, we don’t pay for grades, only for effort, via a system we call “Homework Points”.  It’s a chart on the pantry door where the girls rack up stickers which can be traded in for fabulous cash and prizes.  Once a month, Vanna White appears in our living room on a rotating, life-size lazy Susan, with each spinning quadrant featuring themed merchandise and trips.  Cruises go with luggage, and patio furniture goes with a crystal lady bug pin, etcetera…

WAIT.  Hold on a second. I think this virgin Bloody Mary just went to my head, and I blacked out and woke up in 1982.  My bad.

Kelly is famous for blowing her points at every opportunity. Sara is our saver, until the Scholastic book flyer comes home, and then that girl can blow the wad. I LOVE how those flyers haven’t changed in 40 years.  Do you think Scholastic and Lifetouch Portraits share the same Communications Director?  It’s just this 89 year old man in a dusty office using a rotary phone to send down his directives.  “You listen here Youngins! I’ve been designing these take home flyers for FIFTY YEARS and you don’t MONKEY with TRADITION!” And I digress YET AGAIN.  Damn you V-8.  Why don’t they just put the vodka right into the can, thereby negating the problem of running out of vodka? I’ll bet the flyer guy never runs out of vodka.  “Holy Shit Margaret, there’s a run on the Junie B. Jones series! Pour me another drink!”

But then one day, Kelly figured out that cotton candy could be made at home.  Don’t ask me how; I sure as heck didn’t tell her.  She’s only had cotton candy once in her life (at the circus, because you know I’m loyal to themes), and from that point on, she’s been hooked. Every time she begs for it, I ask her, “Do you see a circus anywhere? Why would I want cotton candy without any clowns? It makes no sense.” But as Kelly never backs down from a challenge, she pulled out the big guns, “Momma?  Can I use my points and BUY my own cotton candy maker?!” Ah Lawdy, that girl has my number.  Those points can’t be taken away, and they are theirs to spend. Short of bringing home a puppy, they are solid gold (not really…they’re worth about 25 cents).

So I did what every reasonable American Mother would do: I set the bar high.  200 Points. She needed to earn the maker, the supplies, and the shipping. There was no way she’d make it…so I thought.  When she rounded the 150 points corner, I got a little desperate.  I started pointing out stuffed animals in catalogs.  I would casually leave Amazon open with a huge elephant in view, and then just nonchalantly walk away.

But here’s the thing about Kelly: she cares deeply about very few things.  Most things? Take it or leave it.  But when she’s centered, watch out.  She’s a Mighty Mount Olympus. I’m certain she will somehow land a career with a sole purpose of eradicating Halloween, and forcing stores to leave their Christmas displays up year around.  FOCUSED.  Like a tiny, blonde, wickedly shrewd laser. Enjoy your Halloweens now, because when Kelly is in charge of the world, that madness will end, my friends.

The Back To Basic Cotton Candy Maker arrived on our doorstep one day ahead of its promised arrival date, causing 2 young ladies I know to go OUT OF THEIR MINDS with excitement.  I have to admit, it’s so easy to use, even I enjoyed it.  I couldn’t take pictures of the spinning, because it took both hands, but once I got the hang of it…super easy. We can make grape, cherry, or blue raspberry (and as all Mothers know, those are the exact same flavor…sugar coated sugar), and we have a bajillion cones (Kelly saved for the jumbo pack, because why would you skimp on glory?). Pour a scoop of flossing sugar into the center and it heats up and flies out like a spider web. Those Carnies make it look so magical! It was kind of neat to do it in my kitchen.  And…well…yum.  Who doesn’t want colored sugar on a stick? FINE.  Ms. Healthy Cooker Pants will admit it: I DO.

We’re pretty proud of our little Kel-Kel.  That stick-of-a-dietary-nightmare represents a mile-high stack of math worksheets, reading log entries, mad minutes, story problems, and violin practices. She has EARNED this cotton candy. You can’t put a price on the lesson of delaying gratification.  However, you can put a blood sugar on it, and I’m guessing it’s about a 20 point spike (stop shaking your head in disgust Dad, I can hear you from 85 miles away). My Father is so horrified at this moment, he’s probably in his greenhouse, ingesting some kind of vegetation/vinegar/bee pollen concoction to get his mind off this travesty. He’s going to print off research, pencil all over it, and then mail it to me. Then he’s going to call me in a few weeks to see if I’ve read it. DAD! It’s been like a month! We’ve already eaten like 20 cones! We’re in a coma! USE YOUR EMAIL, DUDE! And I digress AGAIN.

If someone could please pick up some vodka and insulin, I’ll be in your debt. I can pay you in cotton candy. Wait. Is that counter-intuitive? Do you care? It’s fresh COTTON CANDY guys. Great. Now I have to circus-theme the house to go with it…

*The Back To Basic Cotton Candy Maker company did not pay me for this post, or provide the machine or supplies. In fact, I don’t know who they are.  I’m guessing they are located next to the Dilly Dally Dolly Company, which is protected by Scoob and his Gang from inside their Mystery Mobile. I got the maker from Amazon, but they didn’t pay me either, because much like Google, Amazon isn’t REAL.  It’s either a robot in a closet in the center of the earth, or it’s a figment of our collective imagination.  I can’t decide which. Greg keeps telling me I pay out too many points, and the homework chart isn’t backed by the gold standard.  There isn’t real money behind those stickers, and where do I think that money is coming from? And you know what I said? I didn’t say anything.  I just shoved a stick of cotton candy in his face, grabbed the car keys, and told him I had to make a vodka run. I haven’t gone home yet, so cover for me if he calls….*