Poxy Dolls

Charlotte is not a child who covets very much. She's not really a toy kid. She doesn't beg for the things her friends have. We can ask her to put down the toy she's playing with in Kmart because we're leaving and she'll do it without a tantrum. Occasionally, though, something will catch her eye or take her fancy and then she applies every ounce of will she has to procuring it.

Initially when she came running in to where I was doing the dishes screaming hysterically I thought she'd fallen off the bed and hurt herself. But I quickly established (lack of tears) that it was excitement.

"MamamamamamaIreallywantamockydollcanihaveonecanicanicani???"

"A what?"

"Amockydollmamaamockydoll!"

At this point I gave up trying to decipher what she was saying and went in search of the Foxtel remote instead (thank you Foxtel IQ for your live pause and rewind function.) Sure enough here's the ad for MOXIE dolls. Looks like a Bratz but comes with hair styling stuff including - wait for the hook that snagged my daughter - hair colouring wands.

By this point Charlotte is completely hysterical, bouncing wildly and almost teary with longing and excitement. I explain to her that Moxie dolls look like they cost a lot of money and that she might need to wait for her birthday. She seems to accept this and so I consider the matter to be at a close. Later in the week, when I come back from doing the shopping, it's brought home to me that the Poxy dolls are more than a fleeting interest. Madam has a total meltdown when I come home without one. To her - "Mama's out shopping" meant "for a Moxie doll for you".

Through the tears I tell her that if she wants a Moxie doll before her birthday she will have to earn one. Instantly the flood is halted and her eyes narrow.

"Earn one?" she asks carefully. I can almost hear the whizzing of her mind behind her eyes as she calculates just what she would do to own one of these things.

"Mmm. Mama will make up a chore list and if you can do all your chores for a week then you can have a Moxie doll."

"What's a chore?"

"It's jobs."

The eyes narrow to slits.

"What sort of jobs?"

Here I flounder because I was mainly winging it and I really expected her to lose interest as soon as I mentioned having to work for something. But I can see that mentally she's in the zone. Charlotte, with the right motivation (and possibly a double shot of espresso), could probably trade the world's way out of the global economic crisis in under 24 hours. I quickly scrabble for some suitable goals - a careful balance between making my life easier and some moral goals designed to enrich her health and mental wellbeing.

"Well. We might have things like you have to do your teeth every morning and every night."

"I already do my teeth every night!"

"Yes but you need to do them every morning too."

She considers this and then nods shrewdly.
"Okay Mama, what else?"

Careful to make her chore list reasonable but mindful that the poxy doll will probably cost me a bit, I list five things for her to do every day for a whole week. They are;

1.) Clean teeth in the morning.

2.) Clean teeth at night.

3.) Keep her room clean.

4.) Keep the family rooms clear of her things (shoes on the shoe shelf, toys away at night, etc)

5.) Put her dirty dishes away after she's finished eating and drinking.

I ask her if she thinks that sounds okay.

"Okay," she says solemnly, "But I think we should say no thumb sucking too."

Now I am completely blow away. This is huge. Charlotte discovered the built-in soother when she was six weeks old and the passion has never waned. At four she sucks it any chance she gets*. Under the covers. In front of the TV. In the car on the way to almost anywhere. We've tried talking, threatening, cajoling, begging, bargaining, bribing and pleading. And now she's offering it up in return for a Moxie doll.

The chore chart is duly drawn up, the stickers bought and Madam throws herself into it with surprising passion. We've obviously hit on the rewards system at the right time because she draws our attention to every completed chore she does.

"Look Mama, I ate my breakfast and my plate's in the sink!"

"Look Mama, I haven't sucked my thumb once!"

I can't help but feel that there is a let-down ahead when Madam actually achieves her goal. I think we all remember those childhood moments when the Skeletor/My Little Pony/ Rainbow Brite Action Sprite we'd sold our soul to our parents for was nowhere near as cool as the ad had initially promised. I'm also dreading the effect of the hair colouring wands on Charlotte's hair, clothes, bedclothes and the house in general (not sure how the dog will look with sage sparkle wing-tip ears).

But for now I'm letting her enjoy the thrill of earning her stickers, working her way towards her Moxie doll and I'm quietly praying that a week is long enough to break her out of the habit of sucking her thumb.

* When she thinks we aren't looking.