.
That means that Andy displayed at least 130 moments in which he behaved well, had good manners, or begrudgingly stopped hitting another small child in exchange for moving one step closer to his prize of choice. An airplane with his name on it that flies.
Chris found what seemed like a pretty good airplane on Amazon.com. It had a battery powered launcher that promised to shoot the plane off 100 feet into the distance. The plane would charge and then soar off to the heavens, or at least to the edge of the parking lot. Chris was very excited about this plane.
"Well, you said you wanted your name on it," Chris said to Andy, getting out the marker. "So let's write your name on it. A-N-D-Y." Pause, turning to me. "Do you think we should write your phone number on it in case it flies off really far and we can't find it?"
"Good God no," I replied. "Please do not write my phone number on anything, ever."
We took the airplane to the park, and Chris and Andy wandered off into the field adjacent to the playground while Alex and I played on the slide. Chris and Andy were so far away that I couldn't see them super clearly, but I could make out what was going on, and it was this. They were launching the plane, and it was dropping straight down to the grass like a rock.
Airplane, fail.
The two of them tried really hard to get that plane going. They would launch it, it might curve up for a split second or two, and then it would spiral right down to the ground about six inches away from them. It was possibly the saddest thing I'd ever seen. The Andy plane was just not getting any lift. One hundred feet my ass. And when I thought about Chris wanting to optimistically write my phone number on the plane- in case it flew too far away- my heart broke a little for all the hopes and dreams unrealized. Also, I laughed a bit, but I tried to keep that part contained to myself.
Andy and Chris fooled around with the plane a little, I took a turn with it in case I could magically get it going, and then Andy and Chris took another turn on it. After about sixty total failed launches, they finally got the plane to soar a little. The first time it flew, nobody but Chris saw it. He whooped and hollered as if he'd just gotten his time machine to finally work. He called Andy back over, and the two of them got it to fly a little just a couple more times... and then it was back to not working at all.
For Andy and his 130 instances of good behavior- I'm sorry that the plane was such a disappointment. But, truly, it was really only a disappointment to me and Chris. Andy still had a good time regardless. He got to hold his plane. He got to try to shoot it. It flew once or twice. AND HE GOT TO GO TO THE PARK.
Three year olds are easy.
And now I must contemplate what our next parenting move is now that we no longer have the star chart hanging over our consciences. Perhaps a NEW star chart? With the goal of 260 stars? With a broken toy helicopter and a ride on the swings as a prize? Sounds good to me.
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