The Banana Has the Show and Share Bag

Today The Banana exited her preschool classroom, thrilled to show me that it was her turn to bring home the show and share bag, a denim bag that makes its way home to our house tonight, so that The Banana can fill it with “a few items” that she can bring back to preschool tomorrow to show her friends and classmates.  I asked The Banana what she planned on putting in the bag.  Her eyes lit up and she smirked and said, “I can’t tell you.”

I asked, “Why can’t you tell me?”

“Because you won’t let me bring what I want to put in the bag.”  Hmmmmm.

“Well, let’s work on choosing some things together,” I wisely responded.

After nap this afternoon, The Banana decided it was time to find things for the show and share bag, so while Dr. Peds was working with YaYa on cleaning up the dining room table and floor and dealing with her not-so-helpful attitude, while I was gathering the library books up to return at the library and swooping Squirmy around so he wasn’t fussy, and while Mr. SP was pretending to be a cowboy with a lightsaber in the living room, The Banana went around the house carefully choosing treasures to put in the bag.

Of course, The Banana always has interesting ideas about what constitutes a treasure, and she has a very, very loose interpretation of the notion of “a few items.”

When I next saw her, the show and share bag was crammed full to the brim.  I peeked in and there had to have been at least 50 items in the bag already, and she was trying to cram in a large, grey stuffed elephant on the top, an elephant that I haven’t seen for months and months, so it wasn’t like it was a “special” elephant or anything.

“Honey, I think we need to have fewer items in the bag.  I don’t think Mrs. Lindgren will have time for you to talk about all of these items.  Let’s choose four things, since you are four.”

“But Mama!  I NEED them ALL!  I NEED THEM!”  the distraught Banana-girl broke into heartbreaking tears.

Clearly this was going to be a job for Super Dad.  I was on my way to the library anyway.  I notified him of the situation, gave The Banana a big hug and cuddle in the middle of the kitchen floor,  and put my coat on.

Dr. Peds sat down on the floor, and the two of them emptied the bag.  Inside was a myriad of items:  a broken calculator, YaYa’s fancy, coveted watch that she got for her birthday, receipts from the library, a coloring book, a bunch of markers, crayons, tiny princesses, plastic horses, several play cell phones, the stuffed pink cat Auntie Amy Texas sent a few weeks ago, puppets, a flashlight, doll clothes, sunglasses stolen from Mr. SP’s room, dirty socks, and our personal favorite that nearly sent Dr. Peds and I into hysterics:  the plastic squeezable lemon juice from the refrigerator.

Through a process of elimination, with minimal tears, Dr. Peds helped her weed things down to four chosen items, and we put the show and share bag into her backpack and sighed a large sigh of relief when The Banana went to the next room.  My husband is a patient, patient man.  That’s all I have to say about that.