Grenades of Responsibility

Today we are planning Seth's birthday party (tenatively, we will be having it on April 12, barring any conflict that Scott might find on his work calendar). We decided to have a monkey/animal party--complete with monkey cupcakes and animal games. So Seth and I went to the dollar store to scope out invitations. We found appropriate animal-themed invites and then proceeded to walk around the store, looking at possible party favors, balloons, good deals for me, etc.

Seth and I were walking by a toy display when he said, "Mom, what's this?" At the same time, his hand shot out and grabbed a fake grenade, which was mostly encased in the plastic, except for the handle that you squeeze. It only took a second or two of mashing it before its dollar-store quality shone through, and the handle broke off.

"Seth," I said, "when you break something in a store, you have to pay for it."

"Really?" He looked repentant. I said, "You can pay me a dollar when we get home." We paid for our merchandise and left. In the car, I told him the legendary story of Uncle Dan and the Minnesota loon figurine (for those not belonging to the immediate McGregor family, I won't bore you with the details, but it had something to do with a loon figurine in a Minnesota souvenir shop, a pre-teen's fingers that had to mess with something, and my dad's sense of teaching responsibility. In Dan's defense, my mom later said that she thought the figurine was already broken. I think my parents still have that thing.)

Later Seth said, "Well, at least I broke something I like instead of a statue, like Uncle Dan." And he did pay me that dollar.