Another reminder that our kids actually listen to what we say whether we think they’re paying attention or not.

My daughter told her play date that we were moving after I had purchased a newly renovated church for $49 over the weekend. Not exactly what I said but funny she picked up on me pointing out the low, low, low, three-small-instalments and it could be yours, price of a church on the outskirts of dog-f-nowhere. It was not $49 or perhaps I would have considered it. If for no other reason, I think I’d like to own a pew.

The Spiderman ball came to us via Dollarama. The $2 tag imprinted on the rubber is a slap-in-the-face reminder why I’m still miffed I was not notified by proxy vote about the increase from everything for a dollar to whatever the hell we feel like charging.

The Spiderman ball was chosen over a slew of princess balls, mostly because I have come to terms I don’t have any toys that boys might want to play with when they visit our house. I figured one rubber Spiderman ball and I now offer a multitude of toys for all the sexes. Just like that, I’m living guilt-free.

We quickly took a liking to Spiderman as a pool toy as it offered optimal, reliable floating power and was a surprisingly good size for water volleyball etc.

Greg developed a challenge (as he often does, once again proving to the world, he is by far the more fun parent) involving the Spiderman ball and forcing it down to touch the bottom of the deep end. In fact, he was so sure nobody would ever be able to touch Peter Parker’s finger to the cap at the depths of the deep end, he offered an ipod touch to anyone who could do it.

We learned quickly it couldn’t be done, except by Greg which bothers everyone who tries to no end.

I remarked to a neighbour after dehydrating themselves and nearly drowning after their third and final try, (as outlined in the contest rules and regulations pages) “This is the best $2 I’ve ever spent.” Despite the fact that it irks me to not be able to say, “This is the best $1 I’ve ever spent, now hand me my ipod.”

We have video footage of all of our family members (with the exception of Chloe) who sits plotting her technique for the day she breaks free from her infant floatie, trying but not succeeding at project $2 superhero-superball-dunk.

My approach seemed solid. I would shove Spiderman up my bathing shirt (that sounds weird), swim hard to the bottom and use my body any way I could to force the ball to touch the bottom and voila! I’d have in my possession another gadget I have no interest or knowledge of how to use.

The video diary will remain under lock and key following my death. What I can tell you is “operation Spidey-up-my-shirt” somehow landed me what I thought would be a bloody nose after forcing itself through the neck of my top, grazing second base and slamming me in the face.

I heard Hanna laugh and laugh as she told a friend, “Do you want to try the Spiderman ball dare? It’s the best $2 my Mom ever spent.”

I wonder how it’ll look in our new church?