That Bloody Eraser

The six old pleaded for $1.15 to buy a pink eraser at school because “everybody else” has one and because they’re all making fun of her for not having one.

&%$#.

The details were short. It’s clearly exaggeration, if not emotional manipulation.

But still, &%$#.

Halfway through my life lesson about you-don’t-want-those-kinds-of-people-for-friends it occurred to me that she doesn’t really have a choice. When you’re in first grade, you have no control over your environment, and all those things that grown ups chalk up to kids being kids dominates your every interaction, and you can’t get away from them.

They can’t get away from you either.

So you want that eraser to win their favor or at least to fend off their jeering, until, of course, the next trinket comes along that you don’t have, when it starts all over again.

Then you give her the money for the eraser.

Just sayin’, parenthood is a mess.

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