Whatever I Feel Like

When we were little, my brother and I used to count our money over and over again. We’d count the bills and set them in a pile. Then we’d count each coin denomination, setting them in their own designated piles all over the floor. After we’d get done counting, we’d usually just sit and look at it, marveling at the power all those piles held for us. Then our thoughts would soon turn to how we could make more or how we’d spend it. I usually wanted to go buy something right that very minute. He usually wanted to save some more, save for something bigger and better. Occasionally we’d flip-flop on this, but for the most part, I was the spender and he was the miser. As we got older, I got better at saving. I had my own checking and savings accounts at 17 because I started working at a bank. And he liked to keep his money under the mattress. I’m not kidding about this. He had a huge mistrust of banking institutions and was especially not thrilled that they would charge fees if the balance wasn’t high enough. He still counted his money frequently and so did I, but in a different way now. I had to look into a computer screen to see my balance. I’d check it at least once every time I worked, that green glow comforting me as it flashed my name and numbers up on the screen.

Over the past little while, I’ve noticed Aric is a lot like my brother. He stored his money in hidden compartments around his room, always taking it out at night to count it. Watching this brought back such fond memories and also made me chuckle because I knew what was going through his mind: maybe this time when I count, there will be more! Last week, before I headed to the bank to get a cashier’s check for our house settlement, I asked Aric if he wanted to go with me. He said he wanted to, but only if he could open up his own account. I immediately realized he wasn’t as much like my brother as I thought – instead, this little guy is a whole like his mama!

I told him to get his money and he returned with a pillow case. He dumped the contents out on our coffee table and we set about the ritualistic creation of piles. He had about $53 and he was very pleased with that number. We headed to the bank where we got the cashier’s check and Aric waited patiently. Then I inquired about savings accounts for kids – was there a minimum balance? Would there be fees? Negative to both, so we were in business. The next step was choosing which type of account: passbook or statement. There was no contest, he’d get the passbook so he’d have something in hand at all times telling him how much money he had. I do believe that passbook is underneath his pillow and I’d bet money from my checking account that he glances at the total every night before falling asleep, hoping that somehow the number had magically increased since the last time he looked.

Looking back over my financial history, I don’t know if it’s a good thing or a bad thing that Aric seems to have inherited my money habits. Time will tell, but before it does, I’m going to enjoy reminiscing vicariously through him.