The last Saturday of every month there is a big market at the Dutch Reform Church just down the street from our house. There is a wide assortment of Afri-crap: everything from batiks to bowls to masks to spears to carved animals and a whole lot of stuff in between. There is also yummy food including great asian noodles, grilled meats, and baked goods. Plus some fresh veggies and fruits thrown in for good measure. It is pretty much a sensory overload experience, a bit like a U.S. farmers market on crack. Of course, the girls love it and C hates it.
This morning I set off with K and T to enjoy the many splendors of the market experience. We weren't actually shopping for anything in particular, which always makes it a bit easier than when you go knowing you need a gift for so-and-so or you really want that wooden bowl you saw last time and liked so much which inevitably means you will never ever see one like it again. I promised the girls they could get a snack and if they were good they could each pick out one small thing.
We arrive relatively early, around 8:30 or so, which doesn't seem particularly early to me in the scheme of my Saturday morning as certain small people like to wake up and wake me up between 5:30 and 6:00. Suffice to say, I had already been awake for a while. But the market is just getting started so it is not to crowded yet and vendors are still setting up their stalls. I wanted to do a quick walk through just to see who was there today and whether there was anything new, interesting, or notable. We are wandering about and the girls are cooperating beautifully when I spot it and know we are in trouble. "It" is a life-size and remarkably life-like white chicken made of plastic bags. Seconds later K sees it as well and is entranced, as I feared she would be. "Mom, can I have it? Plleeeaaaseee? It will be my pet! Pllleeeeeaaaaasssseee?" I do the only thing I can do in the situation: I stall and bribe! I suggest we should go have our snack first and then we can go look around some more before we pick out anything since there might be something even better than a creepy chicken.
Surprisingly, K acquiesces without much of a fight. We go and have a snack and pick up a few yummy things like tortillas and some bagels before doing another sweep through the market. K has not mentioned the chicken again so I am optimistic I have successfully distracted her and we might escape without it. We are looking around and stop at one of the stalls that has lots of different things made out of beads and wire. They are colorful and fun and, as I learned at Christmas when I bought a whole herd of reindeer, surprisingly durable. There were animals of all assortments and then I spotted two mermaids which I pointed out to the girls. T was immediately smitten and clearly she was sold. Great! K seemed to be similarly enamored until she looks at me and says, "I can have the chicken and the mermaid, right?" Ummmm, nope, gotta pick just one, and wouldn't you rather have the beautiful mermaid? Especially since T is getting a mermaid, then they mermaids can play together! K is looking down the row of stalls. She clearly knows exactly where that damn chicken is. Her little brain is struggling with having to make a choice. She really doesn't want to put down the sparkly mermaid in her hand... but she wants the stupid chicken even more. No sale on the mermaid!
Fine. She made a choice. We walk back up the row to the stall with the chicken. Whatever bargaining power I usually have is completely undercut by the fact that K is rocking the chicken and cooing to it. The women running the stall are no dummies. They know the crazy white woman isn't going to break her darling little girl's heart by refusing to buy the chicken at this point. They are absolutely not going to haggle. Fine again. I buy the chicken for full price (which is still absurdly cheap but I usually try to bargain just on principle).
We are done and are wandering out of the market, K cradling her chicken, T babbling away to her mermaid. I assure you we got several funny looks and more than a few chuckles.
So both girls are happy. I am happy since we all had a relatively pleasant and enjoyable outing (and because I picked up fresh okra on the way out! Burgers, sweet potato wedges and fried okra for dinner, yummy!). Everyone is happy. Except, on closer inspection, whatever real live chicken sacrificed it's claws and beak to make K's new "pet" because I am pretty sure those are the real deal. Ewwwwwwww!
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