Living Like It's 1929

Fiver and Francie have money jars with electronic counters in the lids. When you slide a coin in the top, it automatically tabulates your new total.

Francie couldn't be more disinterested in this feature since she is all about the greenbacks. And who can blame her? I'd rather deal with paper myself.

Fiver, on the other hand, likes a little change in his pocket going jinga-linga-ling.

The running total on his money jar is $31.30, mostly in dimes. That kid loves a good dime.

Tonight, I was on my way out to the grocery store, and I grabbed Fiver's jar so that I could turn the coins into cash and deposit it at the bank. I didn't even think to ask him. It was a rookie parenting mistake; you would think I had never met my son before today.

As I cradled the jar and told Rob what I planned to do, Fiver overheard me and ran in crying something to this effect:

"NONONONONONONONONONONO!!! DON'T TAKE MY MONEY AWAY! I NEEEEEED MY MONEY TO BE IN MY JAR AND NOT IN DOLLARS OR A BANK! I NEED MY JAR! MY MONEY JAR HAS TO STAY HERE!"

I tried to reassure him that the money was going into the bank to be safe for when he wanted to buy something, but he wept piteously.

"MOM! PLEASE DON'T PUT MY MONEY IN THE BANK. I WANT MY MONEY TO STAY IN MY HANDS."

What could I do? I gave him his jar, and he ran up the stairs with it, saying,

"My money stays HERE. I will find a good place for my jar so that my money stays HERE."

Rob just looked at me and said, "It's a bank run. Apparently the Great Depression has hit our second floor."

Indeed.

Or maybe Fiver just heard about the stimulus package.



***Stay tuned for a St. Valentine's Day giveaway tomorrow . . . . "The suspense is terrible! I hope it lasts!" - Willy Wonka and the Chocolate Factory