He’s been waiting all day. What he wants is a few minutes to browse with me on the world wide interweb.
“You know, Mom, on that site that has all the power rangers stuff, what’s that site called again, Mom? Oh, right. Amazon”
We arrive home after a post-school grocery shop stop. He helps me unload the bags from the car.
“After this, Mom, we can get on the internet and see those power rangers.”
I remind him that homework time happens before we can get on the computer. He says he remembers that and gets busy with his spelling sheet and a dot-to-dot of Clifford the Big Red Dog. I unload groceries, chat with Emma, re-pot a houseplant, and arrange the lilies we purchased at Trader Joe’s. He finishes his work and stacks his papers.
“I’m ready when you are, Mom. I’m ready when you are”
He walks to the stairs and stands sentinel at the bottom step, then gestures grandly with his right hand—sweeping it gallantly to the side and upward as if presenting the staircase itself at a gala event.
We climb the steps, then he, positioned on my bed, coaches me on the best way to open my laptop and put in the search words that will open his world, nay, galaxy, to all things power rangers.
He’s shopping for the ultimate prize, you know. The one that he will earn by achieving 10 days in a row of what he calls “fantastic” days at school. It’s a rhythm we’ve created, his team and I, to motivate and inspire this boy to find his way in making the most of his school days. In that small gap between working hard and melting down, an incentive like this keeps him focused. Eyes on the prize, as it were.
“Type in Power Rangers Rescue Megazord, Mom. That’s the best one, I think.”
I do. We find out that the toys from this particular (vintage) incarnation of the Power Rangers series that he loves to watch on Netflix are being sold at collector’s item prices.
“What does that mean, Mom? What is collector’s item?”
I explain how sometimes grown-ups like to collect kid toys and keep them in the boxes and then sell them much later when they can’t be found in the shops. That way the collector can sell the toys for lots of money.
“Oh. That’s why they are so expensive. Why don’t they just take them out of the box and give them to kids to play with the toys?”
I pass on explaining the economics and eccentricity of collecting and we keep looking at what is available on Amazon. In the Power Rangers section, anyway. He’s rolling over the hiccup of a $600 Megazord and continues to be enthused about what else is on offer–within my budget–on this great big shopping site.
After all, he’s been waiting all day.