When your kids officially become more functional than you are
There's a funny little vending machine in the basement of my kids' school, just outside the lunch room. Max is absolutely OBSESSED with this machine. One would think it had chocolates, or soda or even crack based on his level of enthusiasm. But, alas, no crack. It's a vending machine of notepads, pencils and pens. It takes quarters and spits out crappy stationery goods for the kids. I'm assuming it's there for "I forgot my pencil!" emergencies, but for Max, it's a weekly habit.
(Side note: he even got a little bit Oprah/The Secret on me last week. I guess he was "thinking about sports really hard" last week as he pushed in his quarters, and the pencils that popped out had soccer balls and footballs printed on them. He is now maintaining that you just need to think really hard about what you want and, lo, it will appear.)
Anyway, this morning he walked up to the machine with some quarters he pawned off our babysitter, and the machine ate them! Now, if this happened to me, I would be irritated and decide to never use the machine again. Not Max. Max has inherited none of my shyness. He went, by himself, to the office and demanded a refund. And he got it.
Is it weird that the entire exchange made me a bit teary?