A {Little} Man and His Money

A few days ago, Josiah came to me and said, in essence, "Mom, I think you and Dad are giving me too much money for my allowance.  Maybe we could change things so that you only pay me if I don't make a certain amount of money when I help out at the barbershop.  I just have too much money, and I don't know what to do with it all!"

Pick me up off the floor.

This boy is amazing.  Very money-minded, he does mental financial computations as easily as breathing, and the idea of a budget is as natural to him as it is to Alan Greenspan.  I can easily see him following in the footsteps of my brother David and becoming an accountant.  (Although, if Josiah decides to do something else, by all means he can do so!)

But too much money??

Every week, we give each of our sons (well, not Shav; he's too young) a dime for each year of their life, so Tobin gets 30 cents, David gets 50, and Josiah gets 80.  In addition, whoever's turn it is to feed the animals gets $1.00, so every other week, Josiah gets it, and the following week, it's David.  With the money we give them, we expect them to put some in each of the three sections of the "piggy bank" they have:  some to save in the bank, some to spend at the store, and some to give to the church.  They all enjoy the thrill of dropping those coins into the slots, and they've never fussed about having to put some into the bank category or the church category.  It's been a joy.

Besides those three categories, Josiah also saves some of his money specifically for his plane ticket for when we fly to California to visit family and friends there (he took the initiative, by the way to do this; we would never require him to raise his own money for his plane ticket!), another portion of his money is set aside to buy a Kindle (and he can tell you exactly how long it will take him to buy it, based on how much he can save for it each week), and I believe a portion is set aside for Wycliffe Bible Translators.  I can't keep up with all his categories, so I'm not sure if there is anything else or not.  I tell ya, I would need a spreadsheet to keep track of all his financial dealings, but that boy keeps it all straight in his head.  And when it's time for me to give him his allowance, he tells me exactly in what form he wants it, based on how he needs to divide it between all his categories.  "I'll take five quarters, three dimes, four nickels, and five pennies please," or something like that...like I said, I can't keep it straight.  :)

When Josiah first mentioned his idea of reducing his allowance, I sort of shrugged it off with the standard reply, "We can talk about it later when Dad is here."  I didn't think he was serious.  But then, when he brought it up again a day or two later, I decided to pry a little bit to see where this was coming from; and it was at that point that I realized that he just didn't know what to do with all his money.  What a problem!  ;-)

Hmmm...how to advise him?  It occurred to me that I could suggest that he make a special gift to some worthy organization, like he had done to Wycliffe in the past, so I mentioned a few, including Heifer International.  He liked the sound of that one, so we looked online at the options for giving, and he chose a flock of ducks and--without a moment of hesitation--handed over his money.  We talked about how his ducks might go to a family like the one we read about in The Story about Ping, and it was fun to make that connection and imagine what kind of life his ducks might live.  I'll probably always think of his sweet gift when I read that book in the future.

This wasn't the first time Josiah demonstrated a level of generosity that exceeded my expectations.  I have a feeling it won't be the last either.

Ya know, if I had a dollar for every time I've wondered ("worried" might be a more accurate word) whether Josiah--and my other sons--were going to turn out right, I'd have enough money to buy flocks and flocks and FLOCKS of ducks.  But every once in a while, an incident comes along that makes me lift my hands in gratitude to heaven and whisper, "Yeah, I think he's turning out right."

I'm whispering it now.

Yeah, I think he's turning out right.

* I started writing this post last night and was almost done with it when I was interrupted by the subject of the post throwing up all over my bedroom floor!  He had been in bed a few hours before he got up, complaining of not feeling well.  I made a pallet on the floor of my room for him, so he would be closer to us and closer to the bathroom; climbing down from the top of a bunk bed during an urgent dash to the bathroom is not exactly recommended.  He curled up in the sleeping bag I had gotten out for him; but before long, he announced that he was going to throw up...and then he did, missing completely the trash can I had put beside him.  The endearing thing about all of it however is that while he was still throwing up, he was apologizing!  "I'm sorry!" he said...then threw up some more...then again, "I'm so sorry!"  Dear child!  I wasn't the least bit upset with him; I just felt so bad that he was feeling so bad.  If I could have taken his misery, I would have in a flash.  Fortunately, that was his only episode of vomiting; but he's been weak today.  While he slept on the couch this afternoon, I couldn't resist taking a picture of him.

Dear, dear boy.  I am so fond of him!