We’re trying, but our youngest seems to be oblivious to the concept of living on a budget. At sixteen, he’s an eating machine, which compounds the problem. In every restaurant, we warn him, “Not the most expensive thing on the menu!” (So he chooses the porterhouse steak without the lobster, which is why we now only take him to fast-food restaurants.)
We should have seen it coming. When he was about eight, we decided to help him open a savings account at the local bank. We dumped all his piggy banks into a Ziploc bag and took it to our friendly banker. When she asked for the total of the initial deposit (the sum of the Ziploc’s holdings), our son was appalled that we gave the actual total.
Frustrated, he muttered to me: “Couldn’t you have just told her it was a million?”
© Laura Hedgecock 2013