Cleaning up in the money department

Quick, look up.

Do you see money falling from the sky?

Precisely my point, or the point I make with my kids from time to time.

I was recently struck by what a friend told me she once said to her son. As parents our jobs are to give you food, clothing, shelter and a safe environment to live in.

The hockey games, the vacations, the newest Suite Life of Zack and Cody DVD…those are just extras. They’re not mandatory.

Still, often my kids – and I probably did too at their age – seem to figure that money falls from the sky three days before I get my paycheque. So to balance their need of want, with my want of them learning responsibility, they’re expected to save their money to pay for or towards some of these so-called extras in life.

Recently my youngest decided he’d like to have a Nintendo DS, one of those hand-held video game units. I’m not opposed to him having one, but I am opposed to me buying him one in the middle of summer. I’ll get you one for Christmas, I told him. But he’d like one sooner so he’s saving his money.

With some of his birthday money he’s off to a running start, but it’ll be a long time before he reaches the finish line. So he’s trying to speed things up. We’re in the living room and he springs off his chair, grabs a Kleenex and wipes the dust off the television. Then he turns to me and says, “That will be $5.”

“For what?” I ask.

“For washing the TV,” he says.

We’ve now reached an agreement that if he does at least three chores a week I’ll give him an allowance of $5. His older brother also wants in.

One recent evening they started bombarding me with things they wanted to do to start earning their money.

Jacob volunteered to vacuum.

I’ve never seen anyone so happy to be vacuuming. He was smiling and giggling the entire time. I don’t even think Mary Poppins was ever this happy.

Justin, the youngest, decided to start out by washing the coffee table. Later while my attention was turned to Mr. Poppins, Justin shouts from the kitchen that he’s washing the counters. I go in and see him crawling across the counter on his hands and knees with a wet face cloth.

I don’t think he gets the cleaning concept.

While I clean up after him he shouts from the hall that he’s now “washing the walls.” I rush over to see him swiping a dripping wet face cloth across the paint. The water is leaving streak marks. The carpet is drenched.

Again, not getting it.

I go into his room and see a pile of toys he “cleaned” by moving them from the coffee table to his bed.

“Do you think that’s better?” I ask him.

“It’s better than nothing,” he suggests.

“I think you’ve done enough cleaning for tonight,” I tell him. “Thanks for all your help.”

He extends his hand. I glance upwards for that cloud that money falls out of.

Meanwhile Mr. Poppins has finished vacuuming and is asking for another job. I ask him what he’s saving his money to buy.

“Nothing,” he says. “I just want money.”

I’m not sure which they’ll do first? Clean me out of my house, or clean me out of my wallet.