Yo Yo Ma

It's been one week exactly since Mark's birthday. One week ago today, I bought him a fancy dinner, wished him a happy birthday, and handed over an oddly-shaped present. Which he ripped open to reveal the lime-green toy pictured on the left.

Some people might call that toy a "yo-yo," but I call it something else. In the mere week Mark's had it, it's simultaneously become my new best friend/new worst enemy.

New worst enemy because my house has now gone from a quiet sanctuary to a giant target ready to explode on impact. Everything -- photos, pictures on the walls, the walls themselves, and my windows -- is under direct threat as my 10-year-old son wanders through the house, recklessly throwing the yo-yo in all directions.

New worst enemy because as much as my son loves it, he cannot keep track of it. In the seven days that he's had it, I've heard the words, "Where is my yo-yo?" no less than 7,365 times. And that's just when he's awake.

He lost it the very first day he had it, and started wailing about it non-stop.

"I've lost my yo-yo," he said melodramatically. "It's gone forever. My birthday yo-yo is gone."

"It's here somewhere," I told him. "I just saw you playing with it -- it hasn't even left the house."

He complained about it so much, I finally banned him from talking about it. I announced I did not want to hear the words "yo-yo" or "lost" together in a sentence again. In fact, he wasn't even allowed to mention "yo-yo" at all until he could use it in the sentence, "Hey Mom, I found my yo-yo!"

New best friend because as I just mentioned, Mark cannot keep track of it. He's constantly leaving it in random places, like behind the door (where his Aunt Mary found it) or under the chair in my office. I even found it under the cat once.

And wherever I find it, there's a kid on the opposite side the house yelling that he can't find his yo-yo.

So I've used this to my advantage.

"Make your bed, and I'll give you your yo-yo," I told him this morning.

"I don't know where it is," he said. "It's lost." (He's not one for picking up on subtly.)

"I know where it is," I said. "Make your bed and I'll tell you."

What do you know, the bed was made immediately.

And so, I've decided to use the yo-yo for the greater good -- meaning, Mark's room being clean, his homework complete, a set table before dinner, even dishwashing afterwards. Rather than being driven batty about it, I've embraced the lost yo-yo, and am starting to relish the times he misplaces it.

Because I know -- finally -- he will complete his chores immediately, after being asked one time, and one time only, and without complaint. And all I have to say to get those chores done is, "I know where your yo-yo is. I'll tell you after you clean the litterbox."

Who says only Jedi's can use mind tricks?