The experts say that giving your children an allowance helps instill a sense of the value of money. Children’s allowances encourage them to establish spending priorities, set goals, and save up for what they really want. With this in mind, I dutifully offered my children a dollar a week when they were young and then waited for the miracle of fiscal responsibility to take root in their brains.
An allowance would have been a more effective training tool if I'd actually paid my kids. Frequently, I’d forget to get cash before payday and then offer to take the kids shopping at Goodwill instead of paying them in cash. At the store, the kids' purchases would eerily reflect their frustration with the paymaster. Nick would pick out a toy that transformed into a weapon of mass destruction. Sam would get something sad eyed and fuzzy, and Alice would fall in love with a bridesmaid's dress that cost twenty times what I owed her.
Eventually, the kids got tired of shopping at thrift stores. Alice went to work at the bed-and-breakfast down the street, and the boys got a paper route. Once my children had a taste of regular paychecks, allowances went by the wayside. Now it's interesting to see how their experiences with the world of money have shaped them.
Alice is frugal, works hard, and budgets for expenses. I think this is a natural reaction to being raised by a spendthrift who prefers reading "Best of Craigslist" to actually working and who balances her checking account by intuition. However, a bad example is still an example, so this counts as good parenting.
My youngest son, Nick, is an opportunistic money manager. There are things he'd like to have, but, if at all possible, he'd rather someone else pay for them. And though he's willing to wait for what he wants, his patience has its limits.
"Mom, when's my birthday?"
"In 364 days, Nick."
"Oh. When's Christmas?"
Sam doesn't care enough about money in my opinion, which explains why I frequently find dollar bills scattered in his dresser drawers, balled up under his bed, or being used as bookmarks in his favorite novels. I have told him that this behavior will not earn interest on his money, but he only rolls his eyes at me and says that I'm not being properly philosophical about money.
"You shouldn't think that there's not enough money, Mom. You should think of it as sufficient for your needs."
It's not that I don't get what he's saying, it's just that I don't understand how philosophy will persuade the universe to put money in his college fund.
When I was young, I didn't get an allowance. If I needed money to go somewhere, like a dance or a ball game, I'd ask my dad for it.
"Dad, can I have three dollars?"
"If I had three dollars, I wouldn't speak to you."
"Please?"
He'd reach into his pocket, and I'd hold my breath, wondering what might come out of said pocket. Sometimes there were a couple of singles, sometimes a twenty, sometimes nothing but a handful of loose change. With Dad's pockets, you never knew. My many siblings might have cleaned him out already, he might have had to cover an overdraft on the checking account, or there could have been a closing on a house the day before. Growing up, it was feast or famine at our house.
Last week the subject of allowances came up again. I asked Sam whether any of his friends still got one. He looked embarrassed.
"Yeah, I think Kerrian does."
"So, how much is it? Like, five bucks or something?"
"Uh, no. Actually, it's more like fifteen or twenty."
"What? A week? Are you kidding me?"
He shook his head and smiled, and I thought it best to leave the subject alone for a while. My kids are very understanding as far as a dollar a week goes, but I hate to think what they'd pick out at the Goodwill store if I owed them each twenty dollars come payday.
Marie Marfia is a sometime blogger, all-the-time worrier, and work-at-home graphic designer who lives in Jacksonville—Florida's first coast. She writes about her family because her family is what she cares about most. Her Web site is http://www.dancingmac.com.