Last week, our little friend Ramsey popped by and was asking to borrow my son's scooter. The response, "Yes, take it, but please be careful. It was really expensive. I paid $15 for it!" made my ears perk up. He had indeed paid for this scooter with his own money. Since he spent his own hard-earned cash, those $15 now seemed like a lot of money. He had been collecting aluminum cans and plastic water bottles in the campground. His older sister runs a small dog walking business, and my third child makes her cash with dish washing and sweeping for neighbors.
A few months ago, the original, still shiny and new Razor scooter had gone missing. For a few days, we searched for it, to no avail. Eventually, my son took his wallet to the local second-hand-sports store. He found a rather old and rusty version of his original wheels, priced at $15, and he added a pair of spiffy new green rubber handles for another $6. He carefully counted out his payment, much of it in coins. Though it was older and rustier than the original, this new scooter had a higher perceived worth.
I remember that education on the subject of money felt more challenging during our affluent suburban life. In the daily grind, time ticked faster, and cash flowed out with astonishing speed. It was hard to teach the value of $1 in an environment where I was earning well, and we were spending equally well. I paid astonishing amounts for child care, housekeeping, extracurricular activities, and convenience meals. It's a bit like the chicken and egg question, isn't it, between the working and the spending. It turns out that the busyness of a fast-paced, "normal" life has significant built-in expenses that a simpler lifestyle just does not have. Yet, my son did not appreciate that "normal life" abundance as much as he now values his second-hand rusty scooter.
My children get weekly pocket money, and they are finding creative ways to earn. They have to divide all of their income equally between three jars: Jar 1 is for saving and investing; Jar 2 is for sharing (gifts or donations); Only Jar 3 is for spending. They can blow the funds in Jar 3 on ice cream, chewing gum, a whoopee cushion, or spend it on replacing their scooter. I hope they learn to recognize the worth of a single dollar. And I hope they make lots of money mistakes early while the stakes are low, so I give them complete freedom with Jar 3. At this age, the damage tends to be relatively small, yet the lessons from those mistakes are precious. I let them waste their coins on candy or junky toys, hoping they will gain the experience to make more thoughtful financial decisions as young adults.
About the author:
Born and raised in Europe, Insa is a world-schooling mom of three, a polyglot nomad, and a life coach. After decades of working for global corporations, she now explores the surprising revelations of a life adrift. She blogs on Kids on Walkabout.