natural consequences, or how I plan to make $60

Recently, I splurged on a giant umbrella for something like $17.99.  I could have bought a helluva lot of stuff at Hospice Attic for that price, but nobody seems to give away working umbrellas, and the children had recently broken mine while playing some wild, imaginary, umbrella destroying game in the yard.  And there was a downpour when I was trying to leave Walmart.  And woman in her right mind wants to be in Walmart any longer than she has to.  So, I bought one.  Moving on.

Tonight, after the usual street fracas, we were bringing in the bikes, scooters, swords, tents, cars, and rackets that the children were playing with, and I stumbled across my brand new umbrella laying by the wayside behind some sort of structure devised of an old playhouse and a series of plastic Adirondack chairs and bicycle wheels that I lovingly refer to as Shit Mountain. (Not when the children are present.  Though I am sure they know the word shit.  They do go to public school, after all.)

 You see, when I bought that new, fancy $18 umbrella, I made it clear to all involved that its only purpose was to keep me dry.  If they wanted to walk next to me in the rain and find shelter in its giant wings, they were more than welcome to, but I would hold it.  Only I am allowed to open it, close it, wave it around wildly, and stab people with it.  Needless to say, I was aghast by my discovery behind Shit Mountain.

I marched toward the house and quickly demanded everyone join me in the living room.  I stood in the center of the room holding my fancy umbrella, and the conversation went something like this...

Me: (in teacher voice) I found my new umbrella in the yard.  I thought I made it very clear that no one was to play with this umbrella.  This umbrella cost me $20 (I included tax) of my own money that I work hard for.   If this umbrella gets broken, you will each pay me $20.  I will get $60 for my pain and suffering over the broken umbrella.

Then I systematically ask each child if they want to pay me $20.  They each say no.

Me:  So if this umbrella is broken, each of you will pay me $20.  Understand?

Hands go up immediately.

Malcolm:  What if we didn't break it?

Me:  Everyone is responsible.  If someone else gets it out, you tell them to put it back.  If they don't, you come tell me.  But if it breaks, everyone pays me $20.

Henry:  What if, say, I'm at tutoring and Malcolm or Ceci have a friend over while I'm not here, and they decide to get the umbrella out, and it breaks, but I wasn't here, so I didn't even know it was taken out because I wasn't here, so I couldn't stop it from happening?

Me:  Then you wouldn't be held responsible.

Malcolm:  What if a friend goes in and gets it out of the car and we don't know that they did it, and then it gets broken?

Patrick:  A friend isn't going to go in the car and get the umbrella out.  That is something one of you would probably have to do.

Ceci:  What if it's out, and they play with it?

Me:  The umbrella should always be in the car.  If you see it out, you should put it in the car.

Henry:  What if you ask us to go get it for you?

Me:  Then you go get it.  If I ask you to get it, that's different.  Let's all use our good sense here.

Malcolm:  What if you ask us to go put it away?

Me:  Then you put it away.  Pause.    Are we clear?

Everyone:  Yes.

Me:  Any further questions?

Silence

Me:  Good.

I fully anticipate making $60 off this deal.  It's only $40 if you take into account the cost to replace the umbrella, but I'll take it.  Am I saying I have no faith in my children to follow my directions concerning my umbrella?  Well, in a word, yes.

I am, after all, and optimist at heart...