Playing with Money

Once choking on change was no longer a hazard, we dumped a quart mason jar filled with quarters, dimes, nickels and pennies onto the carpet. My little one and I played in puddles of coins just like Donald Duck's nephews. We rolled in money, tossed it back and forth and made forts out of columns of pennies. Emily came to recognize the presidents' faces and differences in coin shapes the more she handled and sorted them. And honestly, who could ever tire of rolling in money? As Emily got older, we replaced the fake money for real money in our board games. Presto Chango and Monopoly are a lot more fun when you're counting up the real thing.

When Emily was four, we started an allowance system. Each Monday morning Emily received her age in one dollar bills stuffed neatly into the napkin holder on the kitchen table. She had until Saturday dinner to complete her four-year-old chores. The dollar bills served as "the nag" as they were forever falling out at each meal whenever we grabbed for a napkin. Emily had all week to empty bathroom garbage cans, to squirt down bathroom sinks and counters with vinegar  water and to wash the windows of the front door. If her chores hadn't been completed in time, the money disappeared and she had to do her chores after supper that night without receiving her allowance for the week. The next Monday morning though, four dollar bills would once again appear in the napkin holder as a reminder to complete her work sometime during the week. 

It was really hard as a parent to allow Emily to fail - sometimes several weeks in a row - but we let the napkin holder do its thing and eventually she got better at remembering. On weeks when Emily received her $4 for completing her chores, she distributed one dollar into each of four mason jars she'd decorated. One had an ice cream cone on it. (That was for impulse buying). One had a picture of something she was saving up for. Another had a red cross on it for whatever charity she wanted to give money to and the last one had a picture of a house drawn on it with the words "college" written under it. Every birthday another dollar was added to the napkin holder and another job was added to her list of chores. One dollar always went into each of the four mason jars, and as her allowance grew, Emily was allowed to divvy up the rest in whatever ways she saw fit. She sometimes asked us to break a one so she could have more control over how she divided the extra dollars in her allowance.

When the ice cream truck came down the street playing its signature tune of, "I had a little chicken and it wouldn't lay an egg" all the kids ran home as fast as they could to get money to buy popsicles and ice cream sandwiches. When Emily burst through the front door huffing and puffing she asked,

     "Mommy, can I have money for the ice cream truck?" 

     "Sure," I said. "You can use the money in your impulse buying jar or you can grab a free popsicle from our freezer and eat it outside with your friends."  

Sometimes Emily would buy the red, white and blue rocket popsicles from the ice cream truck and sometimes she'd go with the free grape juice popsicles in our home freezer. When her friends invited her to go to a movie one time, she couldn't go because her "impulse buying" jar was empty. Next to giving birth to her, this was the hardest thing I ever did. My husband and I allowed her to miss the movie. We comforted her and offered to watch a movie with her from our video collection at home. After that, I noticed that Emily started eating more popsicles out of the freezer and made sure she never completely drained her impulse jar. It felt good to see her making choices about how she was deciding to spend and save her money. 

Emily was also really proud of her work around the house. At four, it was her job to wash the narrow window panels on either side of the front door. Right after she'd completed her window washing one day and we were sitting down to dinner, the neighbor girl Paige rang the doorbell with her nose pressed impatiently against the glass. Emily melted a bit in her seat and tisk-tisked, 

     "Oh No! Not on my nice clean windows!" 

Each time Emily's college jar reached $50, I'd buy Exxon stock. Sitting on the porch swing in the garage with Exxon's Annual Report in her little lap, she checked up on her investment by looking carefully at all the pictures. She also enjoyed watching her money grow when I showed her the quarterly statements.

When Emily turned 14 the allowance ended, and she got a weekend job at the neighborhood bakery. We stopped using the mason jars and left it to her to manage her giving, spending and saving. But in those ten years of saving and 14 years of growth, Emily's college Exxon stock grew to $1,200. She's used this money to purchase college text books. With careful planning, renting books, sharing with friends and buying used and selling, she's managed to stretched her Exxon funds so they'll cover her for all four years. It's popsicles all over again.

Books beyond the cupboard

I love books. Every shelf of the antique cupboard in our family room and even the shelves in the office closet are crowded with picture books from when our daughter Emily was little. I have no trouble parting with my own books but can’t seem to give away Mrs. Armitage on Wheels, Mr. Putter and Tabby or Shell Silverstein’s hilarious poetry and drawings. These characters from yesteryear are the dear friends who helped us raise our daughter to be the twenty-year-old woman she is today. Of course I’ll make room for them.

During a phone chat with Emily, she surprised me by saying how often she thinks about one of the paintings from a book we used to read together called, Sister Wendy’s Book of Prayer in Art. When something bad happens, she is reminded of the story of a person in a boat who must tell the oarsman which way to go. Should they head for the lovely island bathed in light or to the desolate and dark one? Thinking of herself in that boat - making the choice of how to feel about her difficulties - helps her to remember that she can’t always choose what happens to her, but she can choose how she’s going to feel about it.

As Emily’s mom, I sometimes find myself in “the boat” heading toward the dark and dreary island. I mourn the loss of Emily’s 3-year-oldness when I was adored daily and needed thoroughly. But thanks to a children's book, I am able to turn the boat around and head for a more pleasant place. Emily has become an independent woman. That's not defeat; that's victory. Mr Putter, Mrs Armitage and the other characters pressed between the pages are alive and well. Yes, these books do indeed go far beyond the cupboard.

Barns are more fun to clean than bathrooms

Who wouldn't rather clean a barn than a bathroom? I wanted Emily to have responsibility for her own bathroom. From the age of 4 she was wiping surfaces clean with a paper towel and a spray bottle of diluted white vinegar. I expected her to hang her towel over a free-standing towel rack each day and to drape the bathmat over the edge of the tub. Each year a dollar was added to her allowance and another family chore - now that she was bigger. When I referred to her bathroom as a barn and we turned the edge of the tub into a horse named Princess and the towel rack into a mule named April, she suddenly remembered to drape her "horse blankets" on the "horses" more often. And when she didn't, it didn't sound as mean when I said, "April and Princess are cold" than when I used to say, "You forgot to hang up your towel and bath mat again!"

Secret Language to Stop Bad Behavior

Emily and I have a lot of code words or tunes we've used over the years as ways to get our points across without hurting each others' feelings. Many of them were only appropriate for a toddler or young child, but some we still do to this day.

• Somehow it seems less rude to be hurried by the Bug's Bunny chase song than to be told, "Hurry up!"
• When one of us is doing something annoying, we ask, "When's Memorial Day?" This is our code for "Stop it!" 
• After reading the book, The Little Dog Who Would Not Wag His Tail, "Wag your tail!" whispered behind Emily's neck was my reminder to her to be more friendly. 
• I'd whistle or hum a bit of Rosemary Clooney's song, Straighten up and Fly Right, as I tidied the house around Emily and her friends. This was my code to Emily that she was being being bossy or mean. Her friends didn't notice what I was doing at all, but Emily would say, "Thanks Mom - I got it." It gave her that immediate feedback little kids need to correct bad behavior, without embarrassing her in front of her friends. 
• Zabbazee is the phrase our family yells when someone says something from some far-off place and imagines that you heard them. "Zabbazee" yelled back let's them know in a nice way, "Get over here and talk to me face to face."
• My dad had a singsongy 2 note whistle that my sister and I knew as a warning call. If we didn't stop the shenanigans, there'd be trouble.

1-2-3 I-Love You

If your kids are little, I'd recommend you start a 3-squeeze secret code with them making sure they know it means "I-love-you." My dad used to squeeze our hands 3 times saying one word of the phrase with each squeeze. It was great when we were little, but when it came in really handy was once we were teenagers. At that age, you don't always want to hear your parents say, "I love you." But when my dad would knock on my knee 3 times while we were sitting at a football game or when he'd reach over at the kitchen table and jab me 3 times with his fork, it seemed like just the perfect thing to do. When my husband and I started dating, I taught him the 1-2-3 squeeze. The most wonderful time he 1-2-3ed me was when we had sold our first home and were buying the next all in the same day and our buyer fell through killing both deals. As I followed my husband home in my car after our disappointing evening at the bank, my husband's brake lights lit up in front of me on the highway as he touched them 1-2-3 times. Sometimes an "I-love-you" touch is still just the perfect thing.

Let's Do Christmas

"What shall we do today, Emily?"
My 3-year-old answered back, "Let's do Christmas!"

It was nowhere near December 25. I don't know where she got the idea, but I thought it was a good one. Christmas is so special it should be celebrated at least twice a year anyway. I called my husband at work and told him to invite his boss's family over for Christmas dinner tonight; Emily and I were going to spend the day doing Christmas.

Emily and I pulled out the holiday decorations, sang along with the Little Drummer Boy's "A Rum-pa-pum-pum" and had a great time making Christmas cookies, wrapping a few presents and preparing a Christmas dinner that we all enjoyed. "God Bless us Every One!"

Learn to read using a microphone or southern accent

Everything is more fun when you use a microphone. I have a karaoke machine I've never used for karaoke. I tutor kids in the neighborhood with reading and they have so much more fun reading out loud when they can do it with echo and special effects. We also sometimes take turns reading a page using our best British or Southern accents.