In the days of yore, rural families had
large numbers of children. All to serve one purpose – to share in the grueling
demands of the farm chores without having to pay the labour. While we don’t
have a farm, we certainly try to model that idea of free labour. There’s no
such thing as allowance in our home. Probably because with four growing kids,
one of whom is a bottomless pit, their constant need for bigger clothes and
shoes, and the various extra-curricular activities the said four are involved
in, there’s not much left-over to pay an allowance, even a measly one. So,
instead we ascribe to the true spirit of communism, where each individual is
assigned a certain role in the household, and all is done for the better good
or health of the larger family unit. In other words, our children have chores,
and they don’t get paid for it. When they complain about having to clean up a
mess that wasn’t created by them (shocking!), I remind them I didn’t wear their
dirty clothes, but I washed them. If the table isn’t set, then dinner isn’t
served. Clean laundry is folded by an adult, but the wearer of the articles of
clothing as tasked with putting them away. Soon, folding laundry will be added
to their to-do list. Even Quinn has a job – putting his dirty laundry in his
hamper and tossing his soiled diapers in the garbage.
And it makes sense to me that they don’t
get paid to do this. After all, I don’t get paid to prepare their meals and
clean up. Their dad doesn’t get paid to haul out the garbage and recycling. So
these costly dependents shouldn’t get paid to make their beds in the morning.
As you can tell, I view allowance as payment for the everyday tasks that we
should all do without expecting compensation. Some might argue that allowance
teaches children money management and responsibility at a young age. Maybe
that’s a valid point seeing as how my kids like toss their tooth fairy coins
around the house. In fact, I’ve managed to buy a few coffees simply by sweeping
up the loose change around their piggy banks. Finders keepers, right? Okay, I’m
not cheap. I usually just chuck the change into the nearest piggy, but I think
that’s how Aisling (who still has all her teeth) has gotten rich recently.
I think I’ll leave the money management lessons to later in their
childhoods, like when they’re teenagers and earning some dollars with
after-school jobs. It’s always way more meaningful when they’ve actually worked
outside the home (not employed by Mom and Dad) for it.
Last night, Daddy decided to put the extra
hands we have around our zoo to use. He brought down a large bag of loose
change and some coin rolling paper.
Daddy: Who would like to help me count all
this money and roll it up? It’ll be fun!
Aisling: Okay! (very enthusiastic)
Devlin: No way. That sounds boring. And
you’re just trying to get us to do your work.
Daddy: Well, how about if I pay you one
dollar after all the coins are rolled?
Ceilidh (face all wrinkled in disgust): One
dollar?! No way! Maybe if you gave me two dollars, I’d do it.
Daddy: Well, you drive a hard bargain. But
okay, I’ll give you each $2. That’s some great negotiating.
Aisling: How about five?
Daddy: No way. I’m holding at two.
I finally looked up, after wiping the tears
from eyes, and wondered, “Will you have any money left to deposit in a bank
after paying out for the labour?”
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