She started collecting the Disney Top Trumps style cards that my folks were given at the supermarket a few months back, and has quite a collection.
Earlier this week, Flea took four of her cards into school with her and discovered something AMAZING – you can swap them, with other kids, for cards you haven’t got, but want.
So Flea became the proud owner of a shiny Agent P card.
So far, so cute.
Today, Flea didn’t take her cards into school but for some reason she came home with two new shiny cards.
“Where did you get the cards, Flea?”
“We traded,” my daughter replied, distracted by stroking her shiny cards in a Gollum-like fashion.
I forgot about it until this evening when I was putting Flea to bed. We were playing a game we play sometimes, where we draw pictures on each other’s backs and guess what they are.
Suddenly, though, Flea took the game in another direction.
“So, you lie on your tummy, and I put this towel over your bottom half,” Flea said. “And then, I sit next to you and give you a massage for four minutes,” she continued, kneading my shoulder blades with her hands. “Are you feeling relaxed yet?”
“Er, how do you know about massages?” I asked.
“Well,” said Flea, sounding VERY pleased with herself. “I gave massages to the children at lunchtime today, on the field.”
“What, all of them?” I squeaked.
“No, Mummy,” replied Flea, in her patented how-did-I-get-stuck-with-this-moron voice. “The ones who gave me cards.”
“You gave people a massage in exchange for a trading card?”
“Only the shiny ones.”
Oh, well that’s alright then.
Flea thought for a moment.
“Well a couple of people didn’t have cards at school, so I made a list in my spelling book of all the names, so I don’t forget.”
I can’t decide if I should be MORTIFIED or proud of her entrepreneurial spirit.