The next logical step in the march of reason is its application in a planned manner to further one’s goals.   The skill of debate! the power of persuasion! the art of the deal! The heartstrings of empathy! The cruelty of extortion.   G has gladly embraced her new abilities.

She is always, always, ALWAYS, asking about the next step.   It usually involves cupcakes.

G: I fell. I hurt my knee
Me: let me kiss it and make you feel better.
G: thanks daddy.   maybe I can get a popsicle to make me feel better?

I took her for a haircut the other day, and forewent the dazzle of Kiddie Cuts and $30 for the efficiency of Great Clips.   $12, 20 minutes, and some suicide-hotline-counseling later, G had a fistful of loliypops.   I can afford a lot of lollipops for $18.   Giving your kids has diabetes has never been cheaper! Well done, Dad!

She knows about monthly birthdays, and every day is asking when its her birthday, and if she can have cake?   When that fails, she asks if we can have balloons.   I got suckered into a special trip to Walgreens to buy balloons, and now there are about 20 balloons stuffed in G’s laundry hamper.

She knows about Halloween, and almost every day asks when its Halloween, and when she can get a new costume and candy?

You have to admire this ruthlessly efficient Machiavellian strategy; smart little girl.   But sometimes it goes too far.   The haircut went down famously, she was almost happy through most of it, and even though she got an immediate reward, I wanted to convey to her the importance of her being reasonable to the tune of 66% savings, and I promised her a reward, so bought a package of $.87 ready-to-expire cupcakes from Fresh & Easy.   When I gave her one, we whispered secrets to each other about how special her behavior had been.   Then she whispered more, her face and neck covered in green icing, about how she was pretty sure there were more cupcakes.