My two eldest children are upstairs in their room rolling around, wrestling, playing – and plotting. I walked by the door and paused to listen.
“You know what’d be great,” the six-year-old girl says to her brother. “If we had everybody’s money. That’d be great because then we could buy anything we wanted.”
“Yeah,” says the four-year-old boy.
“We could buy clothes and toys and baseballs. Anything at all. Everything. We could buy everything that we see in the toy store. That’d be really great.”
It’s no use interrupting their youthful dreaming with a lecture on money and how it can’t buy happiness. No, not now. That’s because I’ve got caught up in the dreaming too. A few extra dollars would sure be helpful right now. And why not? I think. I’d sure love a new surfboard and one of those big skateboards. And I’d love to pick up a dozen new books to delve into for hours on end.
The kids are now walking out of their bedroom door and slowly going down the stairs, seemingly on the sly, trying not to be noticed, trying not look at me. They’re whistling and their hands are stuffed deep into their pockets.
How cute, I think.
And then I think, “Uh oh, where’s my wallet.”