Chloe woke up this morning on a mission.

 
As the final opportunity to be the Star Student in her class, she was determined to take something that would pack a punch, leave the crowd wanting more and talking about Chloe around their campfires all summer.

 
“That must be urban legend,” they would all say. But Chloe and a handful of five year olds would know the truth.

 
She was going to ask Ellie if she could bring in her white dog that walks (when it has batteries, which is doesn’t) and barks (when it has batteries and even then, 50/50) and is super cute (when it’s new in the box at the toy store and then someone brings it home and spills orange juice on it and it’s basically now a back-alley mutt).

 
“Um, Ellie, can I talk to you?”

 
“Groan”

 
“Um, Ellie, I was wondering since I’m the Star Student, could I bring, would you mind, would it be okay if, um, I’m hoping you would let me…….bring your……”

 
“White dog? No.”

 
“Um, Ellie, if you let me bring your white dog, I will take such good care of it and I won’t let anyone touch it or even look at it. Thank you for your consideration.”

 
While Chloe was curtsying, Ellie was looking to me, not for guidance so much as how mean was she going to be about this with her Mother listening and hoping that with Chloe’s speech and a toy she hasn’t played with herself in over 3 years that doesn’t even work, she would be the bigger sister and let Chloe take it to school.

 
After a series of instructions, bubble wrap, triple bagging, pinky-swears and a tear-filled embrace, Chloe scored herself a half-day all-access pass to Ellie’s totally forgotten about toy.

 
I just thought I should warn people in the area.

 
Please, whatever you do, don’t look at it. You’ll be breaking the contract.