Not Holding My Breath

Pip

A couple of things have me thinking about kids and money. The first is an email I got from Amy Childs, letting me know that the podcast we recorded on the very same subject is up and available for your listening pleasure. I haven’t listened to it yet, so I’m really putting myself out on a limb here, because if I remember correctly, Amy caught me well into the dregs of my second lunchtime martini, so I was feeling considerably riled up.

The second thing is that the boys actually have a paying job now, and are being paid even more than they’d eagerly anticipated, to the tune of a whopping $21 per boy, per week. For our sons, who’ve never had an allowance, and who are rarely-but-occasionally paid for jobs around the home, that’s a whole lotta loot, and it raises all sorts of interesting issues.

The third thing is the recent exchange, mostly between Jeff and BeeHappee, about kids and rewards and, specific to this exchange, paying children for academic achievement, which is something I honestly never imagined even happened, probably sort of like how until Jeff stumbled across us and our strange tale, he never imagined half the stuff we do with our children. Hey, ya learn something new every day, as the saying goes.

In short, here’s what I think (and if anything I write here contradicts something I said to Amy or something I’ve written before, please just keep it to yourself, alrighty?). I think, for the most part, that kids younger than, say, 13 or 14 shouldn’t have much, if any, money. That doesn’t mean I don’t think they shouldn’t be aware of money, or the power money has, because they absolutely should. That doesn’t mean I don’t think they shouldn’t be part of discussions about money, because they absolutely should. It just means I think there’s no need to complicate their lives with the burden of their own money – be it a little or a lot – and the heavy decision making that often results.

I should qualify this a bit, and make it clear that the boys are well aware of our financial situation, which is generally stable, albeit at a level most Americans would consider inadequate. Much of the reason it is adequate for us is that we are extremely conscious of our choices regarding money, both how we spend and how we earn. And these choices are part of an ongoing conversation in our family. The boys are keenly aware that we don’t have much extra, and they know full well that there are things they cannot have because of this. But they’re equally aware that we enjoy a level of autonomy that is generally reserved for the wealthy, and far as I can tell, they’d far rather have that autonomy than, say, new clothing, or new toys. Or even new deer rifles.

Not long ago, Andrea sent me a list of questions, the answers to which I believe she’ll be posting on her site in the not-too-distant future. One of her questions had to do with the fact that the boys don’t get much in the way of material gifts during the holidays and if we think about them not getting as many gifts as their friends and peers.

The only honest answer is that we truly believe Fin and Rye are getting far more important gifts than those children who receive much more in the way of material goods: They are getting the gift of modest expectations. They are getting the gift of understanding that a limerick or a painting on a scroll of birch bark (my standbys) or buckskin caps Penny’s making them from a deer hide she tanned (yo, those who know us for real: Keep your yaps shut, ok?) are worthy presents. Perhaps best of all, they are getting the gift of realizing that the presents they give to others can be incredibly simple and still bring immense pleasure to those who receive them.

Now that the boys have a steady stream of their own money, I see how easily it corrupts. Now they want to shop for deer rifles, when before their old guns seemed perfect adequate. Now Fin wants a new ax, when before he was perfectly happy with the one he’d cobbled together from a gifted ax head and a handle he carved from a length of cherry. I understand why they want these things, and it’s not as if I never pine after anything. And I’m giddy-grateful they want the things they do, rather than the latest assemblage of circuitry.

Furthermore, I’m well aware that at some point in their young lives, they’re gonna have to learn how to navigate this terrain, to separate wants from needs, to consider the future even as they embody the present. I guess for our boys, that point is now, what with their new status as part-time employees on a certain dairy farm that lies just over the hill from our place. Now that the snow is here, they ski to chores and 90 minutes later they ski home, either by headlamp or the moon, cheeks flushed, smelling of fresh shit and fermented hay, eager to tell some story or another, like how Melvin gives chiropractic adjustments to his son, which I suppose is really only funny if you know that Melvin is at least a foot shorter than his boy, and that in order to deliver the adjustments, his son has to dangle his feet in the manure gutter. So it’s a whole lot more than money they’re getting, that’s for sure.

As for the money itself, they’ve saved most of it thus far, bills and coins stuffed into jars in their room. Fin’s going to buy that ax, I’m pretty sure, and I’ve no doubt he’ll be happy with it. Rye leafs through his hunting and trapping magazines, and every so often he asks me to look up a certain model of deer gun. He wants a lever action, something older, because he doesn’t like the look of the new models. “Too fancy,” he says.

For the most part, Penny and I try to stay out of their way, unless they explicitly ask for advice. We’ve mandated that they each put $6 per week into long-term savings, but beyond that, the burden of what to do with their new-found wealth is all theirs, and only occasionally do I drop hints that perhaps they should save all of it, the better to care for their devoted parents in our declining years.

But I’m not holding my breath.

As a bonus to an already too-long post, I’m including BeeHappee’s revision of yesterday’s post, which is a small piece of genius (the revision, not yesterday’s post). 

1: The closer you can come to not explicitly planning your life, the more likely it is that it will plan itself out. (This is true except when it’s not)

2: It is almost always better to do less. (This is true except when it’s not)

3: 90% of having a good life is being curious and then paying attention to your curiosities. Sorry, that’s wrong: It’s actually 98%. (This is always true) – did this come from Curious George?

4: Half of the other 2% is not giving a shit what anyone else thinks of you. (This is always true)

5: The other half of the other 2% is actually doing things. (This is always true)

6: If there could be more than 100% to having a good life, the remaining percentage would be comprised of others. (This is always true, unless you’re dealing with crapheads)

7: Despite what I’ve just written, there are essentially no rules at all, because rules can always be broken. In fact, sometimes the best life is made with broken rules. (This is true except when it’s not)