Smencils

For the uninitiated among you, “smencils” are gourmet scented pencils made from recycled newspapers rather than wood. Cotton candy, watermelon, cinnamon. . . these environmentally friendly pencils are all the rage at Joshua’s elementary school. Indeed, what began as a fundraiser for fifth grade science camp has developed into a full-fledged sensation among the students.

As a parent, I see this as brilliant on the part of the school. Forget about Bakugan, action figures, and Pokemon cards. They’ve somehow inspired kids to collect writing instruments — something that can only be used to draw, write letters, or (gasp) complete their homework.

When the fundraiser began before the holidays, Joshua came home and announced he needed a dollar for a smencil. After he explained what it was, I told him he was welcome to buy a smencil, but with his own money.

After hearing enthused reports about the different scents available and the writing utility of the smencils for several weeks from Joshua, I wasn't surprised when he told he me he’d like to take a dollar from his piggy bank at home to purchase one. Afterall -- according to him-- each student in his class owned at least two or three of them by this time.

I might add here that, for a six-year old, Joshua is unusually conservative with the $5.00 to $10.00 in his piggy bank, carefully considering how to maximize his purchasing power at Toys-R-Us or the 99 Cent Store and seeking opportunities to increase his funds, wherever possible. Since he doesn’t yet receive an allowance, this often takes the form of the following:

“Toby, I’ll give you five whole pennies if you trade me for your quarter.”

“Okay, Josh.” with an eager nod from Toby. “I like pennies.”

Or,

“Hey, Toby, wouldn’t you rather have a nickel than a dime? It’s a lot bigger. I’ll give you my nickel if you trade with me.”

“Yeah!” from his unsuspecting younger brother. (At least until I intervene.)

The only hitch was that by the time Joshua made the decision to spend his hard-earned dimes on the smencil (each smencil costs one dollar), the school fundraiser was already over.

Due to the popularity of these items, he was certain the smencil selling table would return. So he faithfully carried a dollar to school and back for 2.5 weeks and miraculously did not lose it. During the same time period he lost a new athletic sweatshirt and misplaced his lunchbox on the school playground, but the dollar in his pocket never even made it to our laundry basket!

Then, just yesterday, he arrived home with a bubble gum smencil in tow. It was a minimum day at school, so I happened to be home eating lunch when he sauntered through the door with Jochen and Toby, proudly touting the sweet smelling pencil and offering all of us a whiff.

“Isn’t it wonderful?” Joshua queried me, holding the smencil to my nose.

“It definitely smells like bubble gum,” I agreed.

“Here Daddy, don’t you want to smell it again?” he urged Jochen.

And then, as Toby attempted to snatch it out of Joshua's hand, “No, Toby, it’s not yours. I’ll tell you when you can sniff it.”

All was well until the next morning when Joshua bounced into our room with an indignant air. “Toby stole my smencil! I found it in his closet,” he blurted out, waving it in the air.

Uh-oh, I thought. Toby's penchant for snatching and hiding items of interest has not waned. Recently I discovered an unopened soda can, Jochen’s wallet, and a pair of missing toenail clippers tucked away in Toby's room. Whenever something is missing in our house we all know the first place to look. Fortunately, Toby was downstairs eating an orange when Joshua searched his room to locate the coveted smencil.

After tattling on Toby, Joshua marched purposefully downstairs and I waited for the explosion. Instead, I heard what sounded like friendly conversation between the two of them. Twenty minutes later, as I drove Joshua to school, I asked him what they talked about.

“Oh. I told Toby I would give him my bubble gum smencil.”

“Really?” I asked, somewhat in disbelief.

“Yeah, I figured that it doesn’t really smell that much like bubble gum.”

“Wow, that’s very generous of you.”

“Well, Toby really wants one or he wouldn’t steal mine. And besides, I decided that I’d rather have a chocolate one.” At this point he pulled another dollar out of his pocket.

“Mmmmm. And you really plan to give him your new smencil? The one you bought with your own money?”

“Yeah.” Joshua paused and then in a conspiratorial tone, he added, “But I did tell Toby, he can’t steal the smencil while I’m gone again, or else I won’t give it to him. When I told him that, he promised me he would be a 'very good boy today’. I told him, ‘Well, you don’t have to be good the whole day, Toby, just half the day, until I get home again.’"

“I see. Only half the day, huh?” I commented, as I bit back a smile from the front seat. But what happens if they’re not selling smencils at school today?”

“I told Toby he might have to wait, but as soon as I get a new one, he can have my bubble gum smencil." Grinning widely he asked, "Would you like a chocolate one, Mom? I could buy you one. I know you like chocolate. That way whenever you’re at work, you could just lean over and smell it to remind you of chocolate.”

I gently turned down the offer of a chocolate-scented smencil, but praised Joshua for the charitable thought.

Jochen and I strive to intentionally cultivate a generous spirit in our boys, but given their ages, temperaments, and general proclivity toward competition, we rarely see this exhibited toward one another. This was apparently one of those moments where Joshua’s enthusiasm for the smencil and his desire to share this with his brother merged and he extended grace instead of ire to Toby. Who knows? Given a little time, our family may own an entire fruit-flavored smencil collection. . .