Once I was grocery shopping with my friend Pam and her then four-year-old daughter Macy, who was nearly jumping out of the shopping cart seat in excitement at every turn.
“Ooooo!” she’d say, “I want THAT!” Another few steps, “And that! and that!” In vain, Pam tried telling her they didn’t have the money to buy all those things. I decided to step in.
“You know Macy, there are lots of things I’d like to have, too,” I began. “I’d really like a new dress, and some shoes to go with it. Maybe some earrings. But I can’t afford it right now, so I just put it on a list for someday.”
“But I want THAT!” Macy insisted.
Pam sighed. “There are lots of things I want, too, and things Daddy would like,” she said, “but we can’t have everything we want.”
“I’d really like some new makeup,” I went on, maybe pushing it a little. “And a new car. Wow, I’d really like a new car. One with air conditioning.”
Macy was looking skeptical. With her eyes narrowed, she put her hands on her hips and stared at us. “What you two need,” she said sternly, “is a piggybank.”
We burst out laughing. Macy didn’t get anything she wanted that day, but she was the star of evening as we told the story again and again.
Since that time I’ve thought of that shopping trip and realized something rather important: Macy knew about saving money. As frustrated as Pam may have been with her daughter’s demands, when push came to shove, the kid had the answer. Mom was doing something right.
I wonder how many times parents get fed up with their children’s words and actions and wonder if they’re doing any good at all. They see other kids in the neighborhood seemingly doing so much better, maybe, or their nieces and nephews are the family stars. Is anything getting through?
It’s getting through. It’s all getting through. It may seem futile at the moment, but the words — and actions — are sinking in.
When I was about five, my parents decided to teach me a little about money. I’d been getting an allowance, a small amount, all in pennies. They brought me to the kitchen table, where there was a pile of pennies on one side, and a dollar bill on the other.
I was told there were 100 pennies, which were worth the same as the dollar bill. I could have either the 100 pennies or the dollar bill, but it was important I understood they were worth the same.
No problem. Got it. Give me the dollar bill. I’d never had currency before.
My parents were certain that in my fascination with that dollar bill, I’d missed the lesson. I hadn’t. I’d grasped it quite quickly, in fact.
You never know what’s going on your child’s mind, but they’re hearing every word. That’s a comfort and a warning, I guess.
You can’t be there to make decisions for them, and they’ll make some mistakes, regardless of all your good words. But you’re laying a foundation and they’ll be building the house, so make it a good foundation.
Because it never stops making a difference. You never stop making a difference.
Photo Credits: (Piggy Bank Manager) © BCFC — Bigstock; (Two Girls) © zagorodnaya — Fotolia
Back when I was a reporter, there was a loyal yet somewhat annoying group of readers who picked apart every article and never hesitated to send us a daily critique of our mistakes, real or perceived. Somehow, I’d been lucky enough to miss out on most of their assessments. My fellow reporters, one in particular, made enough errors to keep them busy.
Well, so be it. I sent off the e-mail. Not three minutes later I received a call. It was Mr. Smith.
on a shooting star or a genie’s lamp. It takes action. I want to turn things around for myself, but first, I think, I have to change my thinking. If I don’t I’ll end up in the same situation I’m in now. The details may be different, but the resulting satisfaction, or lack thereof, will be the same.
My World With Words 
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