One day last summer, as I was fulfilling the janitorial component of my servant mommy duties, I found wads of ones, fives, tens, and twenties discarded in Sarah’s trash can. As in actual cash. IN THE TRASH! As someone who makes no money of her own, I couldn’t believe anyone, much less my own flesh and blood, would voluntarily throw money away. I called Sarah into the room and asked for an explanation. Maybe it was an overly generous tip for me from Sarah, something she has been known to offer me in thanks for my servant services. But no, she simply stated that the bills were too old and wrinkly and she didn’t want them anymore, as if she were discarding yesterday’s newspaper, not precious greenbacks. If I were a cartoon character, I’m sure my eyeballs would have popped out of my head at this point. Instead, my retinas remained in place, and we had a deep heart to heart about why it was important to never, ever throw any sort of cash away and that she should keep it in her piggy bank, no matter how wrinkled or old.
Fast forward a few months and again, I’m in her room. And I see this under her nightstand:
Ok, on the one hand, we are making progress. The money is not in the garbage and is still within the confines of her room. But, maybe I wasn’t specific enough in my earlier directives. So I emphasized to Sarah that not only should she take care of her money, she should keep it in one, enclosed space for safe keeping. Like her piggy bank.
And then, finally, just a few weeks ago, as I was grabbing her swimsuits to pack for California, what do I spy in her drawer? That’s right- George, Abe, and a couple of Andrews. Three strikes and you’re out as far as I’m concerned so the first order of business after we get back from California was to go to the bank and have Sarah open up her own account.
After repeatedly explaining to Sarah that her money would be safe in the bank, that no one else could take it, and that she could get it back out at any time, she agreed to the plan. A poster at the bank depicting a wad of $100 bills was all the reassurance she needed that this banking thing was in fact, legit and not just some elaborate scheme devised by me to steal her money. Here she is at the bank:
When the banker started asking her questions about her name, birthday, and address, Sarah got down to business herself. She pulled out her “briefcase”, a fashionable cross-body messenger bag with on-trend polka dots, perfect for spring:
And proceeded to open her notebook and pens in case she needed to jot down any important information:
She is utterly prepared…down to the fake glasses to make her look extra corporate America. At the tender age of six, she already knows one of life’s universal truths: dressing the part is 90% of the game. Who cares if your “notes” are comprised of sketches of rainbows and bunnies? At least you look good! And I have no doubt that one day, she will rule the world…she already rules mine!
The only snag in the process was on my end when the banker asked me for Sarah’s Social Security number. Huh? I had to scroll through backlogs of documents on my email to find it, making excuses as to why I didn’t have it immediately on hand. All the while, Sarah is giving me a look of total exasperation as if I was the most incompetent excuse for an adult she had ever encountered. I know that look because I’ve given it to many a bumbling co-worker in my past working days. But locate it I did and finally, we are ready for the good stuff!
Look at this wad of cash! $161- sadly, it’s more than I’ve made in the last 6 years combined….by a BIG margin.
Signing the paperwork to officially open the account….
Putting her John Hancock on her bank card:
And what killed me at the end….she reached into her briefcase and pulled out a tiny vial of roll-on perfume and dabbed it on her pulse points. After a tough day at the office, business is done and she’s refreshed and ready to play! Check out what else was in her bag of goodies: fake smart phone, a picture of herself when she was a baby with our dog Ellie, and more pens….it’s her portable office complete with a framed picture to prop up on her desk.
Now that her money is safe and secure, I’ve realized that I’ve inadvertently created yet another problem. Who will I turn to now for emergency “loans” throughout the week? Hmmm…better go knock on Katie’s door….