Every year, the SCEEPers (3rd-graders and up, I forget what SCEEP stands for) at the CDC put on sales of baked goods and crafts to raise money for ... something. They hit up parents the instant we walk in, frazzled, in a hurry, ready to go home -- and often with little more than our car keys on us. I hardly ever carry cash anymore anyway, so when a little cherub asked if I wanted to buy cupcakes, I used my financial state to put him off. It worked -- there's no arguing with being broke.
For once, Julian got ready to go without any arguing or running away or generally resisting. (Gabriel was directly defiant: "NO!" "SO WHAT!" and "WHY DO YOU HAVE TO PICK ME UP NOW?!" and I had to drag him away.) Turns out, a CDC staffer had promised Julian a cupcake if he didn't give me a hard time today, which somehow had to wait because I couldn't buy Gabriel one either, which I was willing to do after I heard that he's been really good lately. For lack of 75 cents!
I felt a little bad, but, that's life. I piled the boys in the car, then went to fetch Katrina. It weighed on me...the nice CDCers set aside cupcakes for the boys for tomorrow when I'd bring money, but...why wait? I made a detour to Wells Fargo, and even went inside the bank branch to get change, anxiously leaving all three in the car in the meantime. The boys forgave the delay when they realized what we were doing: driving back to the CDC just to pick up their cupcakes -- and one more, for Katrina. They surprised me by being genuinely grateful and appreciative; I was actually expecting more rudeness.
And pending cupcakes eliminated all homework arguing. The extra driving, time, and trips just to get tiny 75-cent Duncan Hines cupcakes bought me all sorts of leverage. So now you know the real reason.