Reminding my kids we’re broke gives them perspective, like how much I wish I could buy them something.
“Can we get it?” he asks. He is clutching the box like he loves it. It looks right in his hands. I want to clear the shelf and throw the whole lot into the cart.
“No,” I reply.
These days he doesn’t ask why. He knows the answer, or some variation of it. We are broke, and we can’t afford it. Maybe next time. Put it on your Christmas list. He doesn’t have to ask why because his little brother does it for him, although he too is starting to see a pattern.
There is sadness in his eyes, but to his credit he doesn’t push the issue. And there is something else there — something that borders on understanding. He is beginning to accept the limits and rations that we must live with. I don’t like it.
It isn’t that I’m angry about being broke. I know we’re in good company. It isn’t about knowing the value of a dollar, material things, being told no, or any other lesson that is my duty to instill within them. We have those conversations too. Rather, it is about that moment when I am unable to make my children happy — that moment when their smile falls from their face, spreads thin upon their shoulders, and causes their entire body to melt into a puddle on aisle six. It is about feeling helpless and watching as they come to terms with forces I would rather they read about than live with.
They will probably grow up the stronger for it. I get that. But this is now, and while the big picture concerns the men their mother and I are molding them to be, today is about the innocence they still cling to and how it unravels string by string every time a lesson is learned.
It is all relative. They are learning that as well. Every time we have to cancel plans due to a lack of finances we make sure to put things in perspective. Yes, we’re missing a birthday party, a dinner, a playdate, but that is nothing compared to the real suffering in the world. It seems ridiculous to even mention them in the same breath. Context is fickle and easily spun.
The store shelves are full of small differences in single products, and a once easy task is now compounded by catchy phrases and colorful packaging. These are things we need. These are things we are prepared to buy.
“Boys,” I say in an upbeat tone. “Do you like this stuff?”
They smile that they do.
“Great. You can each pick one.”
They spend a lot of time studying the products. Eventually I tell them to wrap it up. The youngest finds one with a picture of a penguin. The oldest likes one that has a comic on the back. They do not put their boxes in the basket, choosing instead to carry them throughout the store. Then they talk about them the whole way home. I nod in the rear-view mirror. Their reflections are wide with happiness. For some reason, this kind of hurts, too.
I haven’t even stepped out of the car, but they are gone. They are unbuckled and leaving a trail of laughter behind them. I see them running through the kitchen door, both behind the other, and each clutching something that they can’t wait to show their mother.
—first appeared on the Honea Express
—Photo: resgestae/Reddit via GMP
The man that teaches his children this lesson hurts more than the children do by far. Oh so little does he then realize, at that very moment, they have gained 12 oz. of gratitude for every ¼ oz. of “can we.” The few and far between “yes we can”s do not need to be expensive – nor do they need a monetary value at all – they just need to require the “thank you” batteries in order to operate efficiently; providing a lifetime of happiness and true gratitude for the rest of their lives. These are the children that will… Read more »
Thank you for all the great comments! I appreciate it!
I’m not a father and I’m not usually easily moved, but I was by this. Beautifully written. A great piece.
There are so many cool things advertised on TV and vying for attention at the store, it’s hard to say “no” all the time. My daughter thinks we’re poor. We have less than some, more than many. I stay home with our two kids (the one year old is happy playing with a straw from Starbucks, where I also steal milk for him). So, we have less expendable income than if I worked outside the home. But it’s a trade-off that my family and I are happy we made. I loved this post. As parents, we want to give them… Read more »
They couldn’t ask for a better father to be broke with. They have everything they need and more than most get in their father.
Whit, don’t ever feel badly about not being able to give your kids what they want. You do give them what they need. Many of my kids (now grown) fondest times in life had nothing to do with ”things” but instead the time we spent together.
Really liked the way you walked the line between what you’d like to give your kids now, and what you’d like to teach them for the future. Well done. I don’t know if it’s just me be a jerk dad, but I always compare my daughter’s childhood to the childhood of someone living two hundred years ago on the frontier. She has way more things than the happy coon-skin cap-wearing kid I imagine, even though we flirt with the first-world poverty line. I’m not really one to worry too much about apocalyptic scenarios, but I just hope she’ll learn enough… Read more »
When my kids say we need a bigger house, I ask if they want more chores. It’s a game we play, and it’s not fun. They’re not keen on the idea of day care, either. I try to stress the trade offs. But like you said, there’s an innocence that blooms in the shelter from reality. My kids are one step away from forming a union.
Whit, I hear ya. I totally get what you are saying and appreciate that there is someone else out there who is struggling in the same way. That being said, always remember that what you may not be able to give your kids in material possessions, you can certainly make up for in love and undivided attention. Kids crave this. Toys and trinkets come and go, but the love and devotion of a caring and nurturing parent will take them a lot further in life. Don’t feel like you are any less of a father because you can’t give them… Read more »
Great words Steve and VERY true.
I understand where you are coming from. My daughter (3 yo) has recently started saying “I need” instead of “I want”. I respect the want and the need of things. But, I also get the greed that it causes. What I want for her to realize is that with wanting things, it leads to wanting more. It is a basic case of American Consumerism gone wild. I don’t want her to be spoiled or have expectations of getting something for every trip outside of the house. It is a fine line to walk.
Interesting stuff.
I say “no” to my kids sometimes due to finances, but often due to the fact that they have no limits. The toddler doesn’t need a third toy cell phone. The eldest doesn’t need sugar packed treats when she can barely handle a donut hole. They learn that my wife and I set the limits and they live within them. They get choices, but it’s a lesson they need to learn, I believe.
I respect this piece, though, and admire the delicacy and craft with which it’s written.
Beautifully written Whit. I share your pain of lost innocence with each lesson taught and learned. Kids grow up too fast already. Hastening that growth just doesn’t sit well with me and I suppose it never will.
Absolutely outstanding stuff, Whit. We are in the same boat, dinghy, really, money-wise, and I could feel every word, weighing heavy on your heart. Great post.
Learning about money and its limits is something I wish I had learned a lot earlier in life.
Nice piece, Whit.
Thank you! And me too.