lil' capitalist

I don't know how it happened. But my daughter is a full blooded capitalist. A "owning makes me happy, stuff is the meaning of life"-collectomaniac. And every Saturday we go to war. Because Saturdays are room cleaning days.

"Do you use this?" I, or her dad, ask.
"Ye-he-hess" daughter says, with teary eyes and trembling voice.
"For what?" we insist.
"I'm gonna make...(insert various non-likely projects)" daughter claims, while forcing pearly tears out of her pretty blue eyes.
"Then find someplace for it to be, other than the floor" parent hisses between clenched teeth.

Harmony. Not.

Sometimes we throw stuff out when she turns her back. But clever little Spawn of Chicago School of Economics (and how the hell did that happen?) is not easily fooled. She checks the waste bin every five minutes, and sometimes finds broken McDonald's toys or wrinkled pieces of paper, pulls them out, and cradles them lovingly while staring accusingly at her evil parents.

We've tried it all. Making it a contest ("let's see who can sort the most things!"), withholding her pocket money, combining the cleaning with dancing and music, refusing buying Saturday candy if the room isn't cleaned... But the fact is, daughter HATES cleaning more than she loves candy, and LOVES her stuff much more than music and dancing and winning contests. Gaaah.