My middle child is a math whiz. I’ve always been more afraid of her than the others when it comes to handing out the raw numbers of our budget because I don’t want her to worry. (She’s a worrier.) Lately, I have noticed she has been asking more and more questions about money and I think she wants to figure out where we are and what things cost and …. I think she’s planning her adulthood in advance.
Yesterday Middle Sister asked how much her father was going to make this week.
Me: “A little over $800.”
Her: “But a couple weeks ago it was a thousand?!”
Me: “He had overtime that week.”
Her: “How much does daddy make?”
Me: “An hour?”
Her: “No, like in a year.”
Me: “Well it’s different every year, I don’t know how much he’s going to make this year.”
Her: “Do you know how much he made last year?”
Her: “Can you tell me?”
Me: “He made a little over $20,000 last year.”
Her: “Is that a lot?”
Me: “It depends on who you compare it with.”
Her: “Well we have shoes and food and do fun things, so it’s enough. That’s what matters, right mommy?”
Me: “Yep, that’s what matters.”
I’m torn. It makes me happy she has good priorities, but makes me sad she even has to think about what really matters at nine years old. They are starting to make connections and while I think we all know that one day they will realize $20,000 for a family of five was not quite what most people would call “enough” they will be amazed (the way all poor children grow up to be amazed) at what their parents could do for them with so little to work with.
Later That Day….
Her: “Mom, remember when my glasses broke the first time and we had to wait almost two months to get them replaced?”
Her: “This time you ordered new ones and paid for them the same day they broke.”
Her: “We make more money now, don’t we?”
Her: “I think I’m getting the hang of it.”
Me: “You most certainly are.”
I’m not worried about Middle Sister because her plan for life is to work as a bricklayer during the summer and teach elementary school during the rest of the year. It’s actually a genius plan because she will make a lot of money as a summer-only bricklayer that would allow her to boost that schoolteacher salary to something liveable.
What? All the things a teacher has to buy for the classroom every year? I fully intend on paying for every. single. one. She wants cutouts? I’ll buy them. She wants an extra bulletin board? Okay, no problem.
They have been the best kids a poor parent could ask for. Not greedy, not demanding, and so full of love and understanding. When we have money? I will be happy to give them whatever makes them happy. (As long as my retirement is funded first. I’m loving, not dumb.)