Marnie Piazza

The Kids Weigh in on the Money Meltdown

"We're losing all our money." 

"We're bankrupt.  I have to buy my own food now."

"So that thing you said, about the banks being broken?..."

These are the comments I've heard so far from children about the financial meltdown.  "We're losing all our money" has been said repeatedly by my sons.  It is a direct quote from me overheard by my boys last Friday morning when it did appear that everyone was, in fact, losing all of their money.  A couple of days later, I tried to explain the situation so that they would stop saying the phrase over and over again in various contexts - for example, "So we can't order dessert because we're losing all our money?  So I shouldn't ruin my shirt because we can't buy a new one because we're losing all our money?"  This led to the "banks are broken" discussion which understandably didn't clarify anything.  But I'm happy to say that the bankrupt child paying for her own cheerios and chicken nuggets is not one of my own, and I have it from reliable sources that, bankrupt or not, her family fridge is well stocked with no help from her allowance.

It's interesting to see how much the children are absorbing about the situation.  That old saying "Big pitchers have little ears" certainly holds true, at least in my house, because my kids seem to get wind of everything that is going on, good or bad.  In fact the more we try to shield them from specific information, the more determined they are to ferret it out and find out what it means for them.  They already seem to realize that what they don't know may be more important than what they do know.

So the question is, will this new atmosphere of financial insecurity, which from my personal vantage point is affecting both the most comfortable and the least well-off people I know in far reaching and lasting ways, lead to insecurity and fearfulness in our children, or perhaps a better awareness of money and privilege that will serve them well in later life?  I'm hoping for the later, at least here in my fairly cushy suburb.  It doesn't sound so bad for my kids to learn that it's worth wearing a sweatshirt in the house to save a little money on heating costs and that it's better to buy something on sale than not. 

Of course, it's easy for me to look on the bright side and try to teach my children something from this financial fiasco, brought on by so many mistakes by so many people who should have known better and did better, since the reality is that our cutbacks will be what most of the world's population considers to be luxuries. And maybe that's part of the big lesson for all of us, to just be happy that we have enough food in our fridge, regardless of what's in our IRA.  I'm turning off CNN and going to have some cheerios myself.

The Woodchuck Incident

A couple of nights ago, I bolted awake at 4:00 am and didn't know why.  After determining that no children were wandering the house, being ill, or talking in their sleep, I realized it was because I had an anxious knot in my stomach.  So instead of trying to go back to sleep like I obviously should have, I started trying to figure out what was bothering me.  I ran through the possibilities...

Was it our crumbling economy?  No, that had been making me feel nauseous periodically but not at that particular moment.  The threat of Palin as Vice President?  Nope, I'm dealing with that through humor unless it becomes reality, in which case everyone in the world should be up all night worrying about it.

Something to do with Jacob maybe?  Speech therapy?  Reading?  Making friends?  I could feel my mind circling it, and then I got it - The Woodchuck Incident!   My youngest son almost got attacked by a potentially rabid woodchuck and refused to admit that it was a problem. 

The day before, we were at our friends' house, enjoying the weather and roaming around outside.  The pack of four young boys were in high spirits and getting into lots of innocent yet alarming trouble.  The saying "Boys will be boys," comes to mind, but only if it is actually a euphemism for "Know the quickest route to the nearest ER at all times."  We rounded them out of a few dicey situations, then they all ran down the long slope of the front yard.  It seemed like they were finally playing in the nice big grassy area that they should have been in all along. 

Until we saw the woodchuck.  Towards the bottom of the hill, they had stopped and were all staring at a woodchuck.  My six year old son Jacob was by far the closest to it, and it wasn't running away.  In fact, it seemed to be baring its teeth.  And as my older son Alex told me later, "It was kind of jumping around a little."  Though Alex apparently made the wise pronouncement to the group that they should not pet it, Jacob was not moving away from it, even once we started yelling at them.  I finally did the scary screech that I didn't know I had in me until becoming a mother of boys, and Jacob backed up a few feet, which seemed to snap the woodchuck out of defiant mode and into flight, since it finally ambled away.

My friend and I both talked to all the boys about not cornering wild animals because it may make them behave in unexpected ways, as well as the fact that any animal behaving abnormally and not running away from people could be sick with rabies.  We told them not to go near wild animals.  Three boys said okay and looked reasonably contrite.  But not Jacob.   

Jacob said, "Okay, but I might forget." 

"You have to remember, " I said.

"I thought it was a beaver, " said Jacob.

"It wasn't a beaver.  It was a woodchuck.  But either way, you don't go near untamed animals."

"But I might forget." 

"You have to remember.  It's to keep safe.  It's important.  Rabies is really really bad.  Really bad."

"Are you sure it wasn't a beaver?"

"Yes, I'm sure, but it doesn't matter.  You still need to stay away from wild animals!  You remember not to go in the street alone, and other things that keep you safe, don't you?  It's the same thing.  It's a rule.  You have to remember."

"But I still might forget."

Hit repeat, dozens of times.

How do I counter this?  Either I watch him 24/7, always ready to remind him to avoid potentially rabid animals, or else?  At some point I fell back asleep, before reaching the "There are no woodchucks in Brooklyn and therefore we should never have left" thought cycle, and having come up with no magic way to make him remember to stay away from wild animals.

The next day, I took the boys and their bikes to the school yard.  We were walking across a field and we saw, you guessed it, a woodchuck.  It took one look at us and waddled away faster than you'd think it could move. 

I told Jacob, "See, that's what a normal woodchuck does when it sees people coming near it.  What do you do if you see a woodchuck?"

"Mommy, I remember! Don't go near it." Jacob said in a proud and only slightly impatient voice.

Phew.  I think.