Keeping Score

I heard it hundreds of times when I was growing up: "Quit keeping score!"  My parent's way of telling me to chill out, already.  But that's what little sisters do, always: they measure themselves, they strive, and they try to catch up.  Well, at least, that's what I did.

Another one I heard a lot was "Stop trying to get one up on each other!" That was my parent's most common response to our bickering and trying to get one another in trouble. And this morning I found myself channeling my parents, saying those same words to Ella and Alex, although it probably confused them, made them think of perky little mushrooms.

But it needed to be said, because today was a rainy, cold Sunday, not a day for venturing out, but, if we were going to stay in, the grumpy mood that Ella was in and the punchiness that Alex had adopted, both of these had to change. Our home is too small for that stuff.

As an emergency stop-gap, I took Alex outside for a long walk around the block, which he loved because he got the great privilege of carrying an umbrella. We walked up to his school and peeked in the windows, and he reminisced about the Bauer-ecke and the Babi-ecke, as though it had been years since he'd last played in them.

Back at home, with a newly sedate Alex, I pulled out my most fool-proof trick in my bag, our iPad or Hi-Pad!, as Joey refers to it.  "Zombies?" he asked hopefully, as he saw me with it in my hand. He's totally going to be ready for the apocalypse. But instead I showed them The Fantastic Flying Books of Mr. Morris Lessmore, which Dennis found last night.  It's such a pretty app, and the kids were captivated.  It kept us busy until lunch.

But then Dennis, who is coming down with something like his seventh cold of the year, needed to turn in for a nap, and I, outmanned though I was, couldn't in good conscience let the kids play video games for the rest of the day. Especially since we'd decided that today would be the day the kids could finally go see a movie with Dennis.  It was to be the first time Dennis had set foot in a cinema in over seven months.

So I decided to appeal to the part of my children's personalities that comes from their mother: their innate love of "keeping score."

I gave the kids some paper and pencils, and told them to draw a dozen pictures each, blindfolded.  If I could tell what they were, I said, they would win a hundred points!  "Woah! A hundred? That's amazing!" Alex breathed, and ran off to find a suitable blindfold.

But Ella, of course, immediately wanted to know the perimeters. Points? What were they for? Were they redeemable? Did they, say, have cash value? How many did they need?  Be specific, woman!

So I improvised: I told them that, if they could win a thousand points today, Daddy would buy them a bag of popcorn at the movie tonight.

Challenge accepted!

I could have told you what Alex's
first picture would be without even
looking.  He's drawn kitty cats
so many times that he can do it
with his eyes closed. Or with
pajama pants tied over his face.

For my next trick, I set out two mixing bowls and told the kids that, if they could throw a hundred buttons in the bowls, working together, they could win another hundred points.  Three times Joey upended one of the bowls, and although Ella and Alex were on the same team, each time Joey sabotaged one, the other dumped out his or her bowl in solidarity.  It made no sense, but it was kind of sweet all the same.  At one point they were just chucking handfuls of buttons across the room, but they got tired of constantly regathering them, so they imposed a rule on themselves that they had to be thrown one at a time, for better aim.

Ella, surveying the damage towards the end, shook her head at me. "You're going to have to answer to dad for this mess, mom."  Ah, yes, my tyrannical husband.

Tonight, when I showed him pictures of what we'd been up to, he laughed.  "Oh, so that's what that noise was." His only other clue was a couple of stray buttons that he'd found when emptying our roomba this evening.  And that's because I told the kids that they could earn 150 points for cleaning up all those buttons, but that I'd take away a point for every button they missed when cleaning.  Ella countered by asking for a 20-point bonus if they managed to get every single button.  Alas, they didn't get their bonus, but they ended up richer by another 145 points. And I'd enjoyed a strife-free hour.


While they were chucking buttons, I was cutting up tissue paper and setting out bowls of glue.  I turned on an hour-long book on tape, and the kids spent the whole time making crumple-paper pictures for me.  They earned a cool 160 points, and I got some pretty new artwork for my wall.  (Ella's picture is of a magical beanstalk in the sunset: I think the subject matter was inspired by a fairy tale Grandpa Geels has been writing for the kids, in installments, with their weekly letter.)

Ella, at one point, looked up and saw me, kicking back, sipping my coffee, and watching them, and asked "So, Mom? What do they do at grown-up parties? Have contests to see who can drink the most coffee?" I managed not to snort my coffee.

Since they'd been sitting still for an hour, I figured the kids should get some fresh air and exercise, so I sent them outside for a scavenger hunt, even though it was still raining pretty hard.

"Wait me, guys!"

Back inside, I pulled out some sugar cookie dough and told them that their next task was to form and decorate cookies, and that I'd judge them on how well they got along with one another, and how well they cleaned up after themselves.  A tasty 100 points.

Joey carefully decorated his cookies with Smarties,
and then, just as carefully, removed and ate all of the
Smarties.  And then ate the dough, too,
for good measure.

Alex had a few tell-tale sprinkles on his face as well.

When they'd finished wiping off the table and sweeping up the sprinkles that Joey had trickled all over the floor (man, I love this game), I handed Ella her handwriting exercise book that she needs to complete over the summer, and I told her a half-hour of writing was worth 100 points to me. So was eating dinner quickly and without complaint.  The kids finished dinner with 967 points.

Poor kiddo, she has to do a couple pages of this
stuff every day over vacation.

Dennis told them they could get the rest by behaving super-nicely on the transit to the movie theater, but Ella immediately, shrewdly said, "Well, no, I'd really like to make sure we get all of our points before we leave.  You know...just in case."

Not taking any chances, hm? So I was left scratching my head: the house was spotless...what could she...German! Ella immediately curled up and read her way through three German stories, and the kids finished the day with an epic 1267 points.

I don't know if I have the energy to do this sort of thing every day, but the kids had fun, and it turned out to be such a peaceful day. Ella, especially, relishes being judged and evaluated (Dennis and I often laugh at her pleas for assessment.  She reminds us of Lisa Simpson: "Grade me! Grade me!")

Dennis said that the kids were great at the movie, although they were a little wound up when it was over, inspired to do a little panda-style kung-fu on the way home.  But, since they were so well-behaved all day, Dennis told them that they could come to Google for lunch some time this week as an extra treat.  Alex, thoughtful, looked down at his clothes. "Dad, I think this is my coolest shirt.  I have one other shirt with buttons, but I think this is my coolest." He was apparently concerned that his coolest clothes wouldn't be washed in time for stepping out to Google.

When they came home, the kids agreed that all their hard work...you know, all that tedious cookie-making...was totally worth it.  But Alex did have a bit of a tummy ache. Too much popcorn. The perils of keeping score.