by Cari Ross

Created on: August 04, 2008

Kneading the carpet with her nails, she quietly observed her prey as it made its way down the hall toward the stairs, its tail undulating behind its body ever so slightly. Then in one fluid s-w-o-o-s-h, the predator pounced.

Shreds of toilet paper floated and fluttered in the air. The roll, itself, bounced down each step before it came to its final resting place at the bottom of the stairs.

The "cat" had won once again. The "mouse," though it did escape down the stairs, had not made it very far.

Much like a cat, my daughter could entertain herself for hours with the most inexpensive items that she could get her hands on. In fact, the more expensive the item was, the less interested in it she seemed to be.

I learned, through my daughter, that functionality, not price, is what matters most. Functionality, to a child, may be very different than adult functionality.

For example, toilet paper, to my daughter, had many more functions outside the restroom than inside. Please allow me to list a couple:

Angel Wings & Halo
Casts for Stuffed Animal's "Broken" Limbs

Therefore, in an attempt to "earn" my daughter's affection, I, "getting the hint," purchased for her a costume with wings. I also purchased for her a toy veterinary clinic and a veterinary computer game.

Her initial enthusiasm with each expensive purchase lasted about one day before the toilet paper returned to its spot on the pedestal. I inherited a rather nice computer game, but the costume, I must admit, was a bit too small for my personal taste.

Understanding my daughter's fascination with toilet paper was not effortless until I picked up a rock on a walk and put it in my pocket. I continued to rub the rock with my fingers, studying the nuances of its texture.

I realized that my daughter had been deeming "functional" that which was readily available. Likewise, throughout my life, I was doing the same.

As a young child, I was fascinated with rocks to the extent that my mother thought I was going to be a geologist at one point. She purchased for me a book on rocks.

My mother did not realize that my fascination was with the unique beauty of each rock, not with its name and mineralogical makeup. I also enjoyed feeling the rock's texture; a characteristic not easily mimicked in literature.

Like her mother, my daughter was not interested in the numbers that followed the dollar sign of a particular item. My daughter was interested in an item's value that could not be priced the unique value that she granted it.

Learn more about this author, Cari Ross.
Click here to send this author comments or questions.