Cole Can Haz Cheezburger?

On Saturday I decided to take Cole with me while I ran some errands.

Why in the world would I purposefully take a toddler on errands?  Because I am a glutton for punishment.

No.  I just felt like he needed some one-on-one time with Mommy.  Plus, I knew it'd be a heck of a lot easier on Lance to just have three kids rather than Cole.

Anyway, that's not the point of this story.  The point of this story starts with this: as I was strapping him into his car seat he started talking about cheeseburgers.  Half of what he said was unintelligible, but I definitely heard cheeseburgers mentioned several times.  This seemed a bit odd to me since it's not like we eat a ton of cheeseburgers around here.  Still, heaven only knows what goes on inside that little boy's mind, so the mention of cheeseburgers didn't seem too out there.

As we drove down Veteran's Memorial Pkwy (350 S to us old timers), we passed a McDonald's.  Cole got really excited and started saying "Cheeseburger!  Cheeseburger!", until we drove by it.  And once he realized we weren't going there he dropped his little head and frowned a genuine little sad frown and it was all I could do not to pull a U-turn and go buy that child a cheeseburger.  But is was only 10am and there was a rather large median in the way.

So I told Cole that we would get a cheeseburger for lunch, just the two of us.  Wouldn't that be a special treat?  He was quite excited about this.  He was excited about this at Gigi's house (we had to drop something off), he was excited about this at Sam's Club (I had to buy half the store), and he was excited about this at Target (where I scored some sweet penny loafers for $7.48 and a cute dress for Tess).  He was still excited about it on the way to Burger King. (Hey, I didn't feel like McDonald's...) 

And then he fell asleep.

Poor kiddo was tuckered out with all those errands.  (It might not seem like many, but when you run up and down every single aisle of each store, you get tired.)  I thought about going anyway and waking him up, but the risk that he would wake up SUPER GROUCHY was just too high.  So I took him home.

He woke up just fine and without any mention of cheeseburgers he happily ate a peanut butter and honey sandwich.

Later that afternoon I was in the kitchen baking cookies for an object lesson I was using in my Sunday School class the next day.  (I was teaching Gospel Principles.  It's awesome - you should totally come.)  I could hear Cole come up the stairs.  He walked into the kitchen and with the most adorable toddler face and with the most adorable toddler lisp said, "I have cheeseburger, fries, and a drink?"

It was all I could do not to eat him up right then!  I picked him up and twirled him around the kitchen.  Then he saw all the cookies on the counter and said, and I'm not making this up, "Oh my gosh!  Cookies!  I want one!"

Well of course I gave him a cookie.  I gave him several, in fact.

Well, as Cole's luck would have it, by the time it was time to make dinner I had no desire at all to cook.  Neither did Lance. (Hah!  When does Lance ever have a desire to cook?  Sorry, Lance.)  And, as Cole's luck would have it, I had several coupons for Burger King.  So, in the end, I guess Lance did cook - he went through the drive-thru and brought home cheeseburgers, fries, and a drink for everyone!

 

And all was well.

Allowance

For quite a while now Lance and I have been mulling over the idea of giving Spencer and Josh an allowance.  First I couldn't decide how much to give.  Then I couldn't decide the best way to introduce the concept of saving and budgeting so that they would understand.  Then there was the problem of where they would keep the money and how I would get them the right amount each week, and what denomination of coins and bills I should give them so they could pay their tithing... the list went on and on.

And so they didn't get an allowance because it was just easier that way.

I was thinking about it again the other night when I finally realized what my big hang-up was: the cash.  I very rarely have cash on hand.  (Except for an emergency $20 I keep in my wallet.)  I realized that the reason we hadn't done anything yet was because I didn't want to have to deal with giving them cash every week.

And then I had another realization: these children didn't HAVE to have cash.  In all reality, these children could grow up using cash only on very rare occassions.  I mean, everything is electronic now.  I know some people argue that children can't really understand the concept of wise spending without actually having the money in hand - but I don't agree with that.  This is the e-generation; if anything, using cash could be a more foreign concept to them than having an electronic account.  Doesn't it make more sense to set up their allowance for this type of lifestyle?

So that's what I did.

We had a short Family Home Evening to introduce this.  I made a PowerPoint presentation for it because:

1. I'm a geek at heart.
2. In my previous life (before children) I was known as the PowerPoint Queen.  Bow to me, subjects!
3. I knew anything on the computer would keep their attention.

We talked about budgeting and saving.  I asked the boys where they thought we got our money and was very interested to learn that Spencer thought the bank just gave it to us.  Even with prompting he didn't know that we worked for it.  (What does he think Lance is doing all day?) 

We also showed a very simple chart of how and where our family spends their money.  For simplicity I just used $1000 per month as our budget, so if you hear Spencer or Josh bragging about how we make $1000 a month, don't worry.  We're doing a little better than that!  I was glad that Spencer was impressed at how much we spent on our mortgage and food; perhaps he'll appreciate the roof over his head and the food on his plate a little more now.  Or not; I'm no dummy.

I explained to them that they now each have their own accounts, and each week they will get $2 deposited into the account for their allowance.  (Hey, we're big spenders here!  But how much does an 8 and 5 year old really need?)  I didn't really set up new bank accounts for them - they already have those online, and they're strictly for college/missions right now.  But I set up an Excel spreadsheet for each of them to keep tabs on their earning and spending. 

 

It's certainly nothing fancy, but it'll get the job done.

We let them know that when they wanted to buy something they should let us know.  Then we would either use our credit card (like online or at the store), or we would get cash for them to use.  I made sure they understood that this money would be deducted from their account.  Then I made sure that they understood what "deducted" means. :)  

I'm pretty sure they have a good grasp on the concepts we talked about.  I'm hoping this will help them learn some fiscal responsibility, which, given the state of the economy and some of the reasons for it, many parents didn't teach their children a couple of decades ago!

How about you?  Do you give your children allowances?  How do you do it and how much do you give?  Do you tie it to work around the house?  (We're not doing that - if you're a part of this family then you work, whether or not you're paid!)  I'm interested to see how different families do this.  Susie - have you ever taught classes or units on teaching children about money?  I'm interested to hear what a professional thinks. :)

Tess's Moods in the Space of Five Minutes

 Happy Tess.

 

Angry Tess.

Chubby Tess.  (Is there a rubber band around that wrist?!)

 

Sad Tess.

Cuddly Tess.

Sad and angry Tess.

Sleeeeeepy Tess.

Angry yelling Tess.

Spencer's First Pinewood Derby

Last night marked a rite of passage for Spencer: his first Cub Scout Pinewood Derby!

I think Spencer liked the idea of building a really fast car, he wasn't too interested in actually doing the work. (He was often more interested in his computer games!) I'm proud of Lance for helping him and letting Spencer choose what the car would look like and helping him do most of the work. No doubt Lance could have created a much flashier and faster car, but that's not the point of the derby, right? In my life I've seen lots of very impressive pinewood derby cars that there's no way a boy under the age of 25 could build, that's all I'm sayin'.

Spencer's car wasn't too fast and wasn't too slow.  He pretty much came out in the middle.  He was a bit disappointed by this, but hopefully that will light a fire under him for next year.

Spencer's car was named "Bolts", in honor of the very large bolt headlights.  (Which also acted as weights.  Gotta get it as close to 5 ounces as possible, right?)  Also, behold the awesome patches on his uniform!

Our whole family went down to the church for the races.  Including a very toddler-esque Cole.  He wasn't allowed to pick up the cars and race them down the track, which made him MAD.  (I cannot stress the anger enough.)  He spent most of the evening yelling and crying and trying to wrangle free from my arms.  He also spent quite a bit of time in the stroller we had brought for Tess.  He was happy when Josh pushed him around, but didn't want any of the little girls who were there to come anywhere near him.  They'd get close to the stroller and he'd start hollering and flailing arms and legs.  It was pretty awesome.

Here's Spencer with his Wolf Den.  From R-L: Dalton, Spencer, Karson, and Ethan. Now that's a good looking group of 8 year olds!

 

Even though Spencer's dream of winning big didn't materialize, he still had a great time.  This might in part be due to the Snickers bar he won and the mini doughnuts that were served at the end.  (The powdered sugar ones were "snow tires" and the chocolate covered ones were "mud tires".  Very clever, Scout leaders!)  (Also, Cub Scout leaders, you are all saints.  Thank you for your service! It just needs to be said. :)

True Story

This is the story of how Cole eats cupcakes.

 

The end.

4:00pm

Today was a long day.  It was a good day, but also long.  I cleaned a lot and cooked a lot and refereed playdates with lots of little boys a lot. 

So by around 4:00pm I was pretty beat.  Dinner in the crockpot, bread in the oven, boys playing downstairs, Tess down for a nap.  I just wanted to sit down and read a little bit about my guy Henry.

And then I heard Josh calling from the basement:

"Mommy!  Cole POOPED all over the floor!!!"

Oh boy.  That is just what I wanted to hear.

Sure enough, there's poop on the floor.  And yet Cole is fully clothed.  It's a mystery.  Not really - he had a major explosion, which is why I cleaned him up as best I could and then tossed him into the shower.  Some poop tsunamis are just not worth fighting.

Then I went downstairs with a bucket of water and a scrub brush and got to work.  It actually wasn't too bad, but not exactly what I wanted to do with my few minutes of free time.  Then I saw a Wii controller on the floor. With poop on it.  Of course.  So I gathered up all four controllers and gave them all a good scrubbing with some Clorox wipes.

And while I was doing this I just had to wonder: is this what my life is now?  Is this really what I signed up for?  Because I'm pretty sure I would be childless right now if I truly knew just how much poop/vomit/snot/other bodily fluids I would be cleaning up in the future.

WHY am I cleaning poop off of Wii controllers?

After wrangling a kicking and screaming Cole out of the shower, I get my answer.

Mommy loves you,
Mommy loves you,
Mommy loves you!
Now give her a big kiss!

Cole sings the song I made up for him when he has his worst Toddler moments. (I'm such an original lyricist, no?)  We sing this song at least three times a day, but I'm always the one who starts it.  He's off-key and his speech is adorably toddler-lisped.  When he's done he gives me a big, wet kiss, right on the cheek.

Then I remember.

A New Thing I Love to Hate

This evening I discovered that I hate sewing patches onto Cub Scout shirts.

More specifically, the patches that are the sleeves.

Seriously?!  Could there be a worse place to have a bunch of patches?  I mean, I know I am by no means a skilled seamstress, but I can do most of the basics.

In case you couldn't tell, this evening I finally got around to sewing Spencer's patches on his shirt.  I had had an inkling that it wouldn't be a fun chore, but tomorrow is that great rite of passage, the Pinewood Derby, so I knew it had to be done.

Man, I hate sewing patches on sleeves.

As I sewed (and picked out stitches, and sewed again), I came to the conclusion that it must have been a bunch of men who decided to put all those patches on the sleeves, because no woman would inflict such punishment on her sisters.  I imagined a scenario something like this between the guys who designed the uniform:

Bill: Hey!  Those demo uniforms sure look nice!
Ted: I thought so. But they seem to be missing something.  They need some... flair.
Bill: I know!  How 'bout some more patches? You can never have too many patches.  Like a flag and a council patch?  Oh, and the pack number.  The longer the better!
Ted: Yeah, but with all the advancement patches and other stuff, that makes the front look a little too busy.
Bill: I know - let's put them on the sleeves!  Mary will do it for us.
Ted: She won't mind?
Bill: Of course not!  She's already sewn all the patches on our 10 mock-up shirts - what's a few more?

The next day finds Mary, Bill's wife, at her sewing machine, with a stack of shirts and patches.  She sighs as she tries to sew the patches onto the sleeves.

Mary: Screw you, Bill.

Okay, that might be a bit harsh.  But I'm trying to get my point across.  And that point is, I hate sewing patches on sleeves.  And, quite frankly, it's not so fun to sew patches on other parts of the shirt, either.  (And with three boys who will be going through Cub Scouts and Boy Scouts, the future looks rife with patch sewing...)