Back in April, I wrote a post about Sam's interest in helping to complete whatever chore, project or batch of muffins he discovered me in the midst of. "Can I help you do that?" was a constant refrain of his, and it was a source of genuine pleasure but also (sometimes) ever-so-mild annoyance for his parents, who found themselves in the position of either rebuffing the proffered assistance or slowing down progress to a snail's pace to teach our four-year-old how to re-pot plants or string road hockey nets (this afternoon's projects). Part of the job, I know, but the weekends are only so long...
Lately, there's been a follow-up refrain once the offer of help has been accepted: "How much would a job like that pay?" Okay, so Sam doesn't actually quote one of my favourite Kids in the Hall sketches, but he comes darned close. He started out with subtle expressions of his mercenary motives, sort of mumbling under his breath while engaged in the task—as though unconscious of being overheard—"maybe I will get some dollars for this..." Later, he became bolder. He's offered to pick up yard waste, clean his room, help make cookies, and put away his clothes... all for the tidy sum of two dollars. He still loves being a help (you should have seen him playing apprentice during the dishwasher installation), but he's also learning the (monetary) value of an honest day's work. Pay up!
And we have, from time to time. Not too long ago, he "babysat" Anabel for $5. That is, he kept her entertained in her playpen a few feet from the dining roo
m table for the length of time it took for the screecher's mommy to enjoy her meal. He loves his five dollar bill. He's got big plans for it. It's going towards the purchase of a new section of the Pirate World that's taking over his bedroom. And that's where this all started, really. Sam's lust for the pirate's life has had him looting his parents' treasure chest a little too freely this summer.
He received a Megablox "Pyrate" fort for Christmas from Grandma and Grandpa Arnold last year, little knowing that he was the proud owner of but a token of the full suite of fortresses, islands, ships and crews (human crews, skeleton crews, "goobie" crews...). When we picked up a small island set to go with the original kit, Sam pulled a giant "here's what you're still missing, kids" page out of the box and his head exploded. Bounty like he'd never imagined in his wildest dreams. He was so enamoured of these little (mostly cheap) toys, that it was fun to surprise him from time to time over the next few weeks with additional sets: Maroon Galley, Dubloon Mystery, and so on. Sam was thrilled. .. and then expectant. He'd lay out the "menu" to point out what he still needed.
So we had to reign it in. I found myself explaining again and again that he was lucky to have as many toys as he'd already collected, that there were plenty of kids with nothing. I bordered on exclaiming "do you realize how many starving orphans there are in Africa?" But if Sam was spoiled, commanding him to be grateful for his privileged life and a little bit scared that it could be unravelled by drought and epidemics wasn't going to change anything. Perhaps earning money towards toy purchases would teach him some restraint, some patience, and some awareness of the effort that goes into producing coins from the Magic Wallet of Plenty.
So while he's angling for extra pay and having to learn the line between what he's expected to do as a member of this household and what counts as a chore for his allowance, this little experiment might be working. While shopping for household supplies at Wal-Mart this morning, Sam asked if he could buy a $1 pirate (of course) Halloween bag. We explained that we had a perfectly good ghost bag at home. ("Perfectly good." I am such a mom). But, we added, if he thought it was worth it, he could buy it with his own money. He jumped at the chance to throw the bag in the cart. But when he saw some ghost and pirate craft stickers a few minutes later, he considered the same offer for several minutes. Did he need them? How many, really? And which ones? He spent the second $1.80 very carefully. Maybe it's sinking in a little.
Jeremy has taken the musical approach to this dilemma throughout: he's taught Sam the chorus to the Stones' "You Can't Always Get What You Want." That seems to be working, too. Or, at least, Sam sagely shares the lyrics with Carter whenever he pouts at being stonewalled by Tracey. We can't fault little boys for so much want in this commercial culture, and we can't limit them to basic needs simply to teach a lesson. So we're groping towards some middle ground: the land of allowances and wish lists and reasonable gifts. Hopefully, that's where Sam will learn greater respect for his belongings and gratitude for just how many of them there are. And to stop asking to be paid for brushing his teeth.
Lately, there's been a follow-up refrain once the offer of help has been accepted: "How much would a job like that pay?" Okay, so Sam doesn't actually quote one of my favourite Kids in the Hall sketches, but he comes darned close. He started out with subtle expressions of his mercenary motives, sort of mumbling under his breath while engaged in the task—as though unconscious of being overheard—"maybe I will get some dollars for this..." Later, he became bolder. He's offered to pick up yard waste, clean his room, help make cookies, and put away his clothes... all for the tidy sum of two dollars. He still loves being a help (you should have seen him playing apprentice during the dishwasher installation), but he's also learning the (monetary) value of an honest day's work. Pay up!
And we have, from time to time. Not too long ago, he "babysat" Anabel for $5. That is, he kept her entertained in her playpen a few feet from the dining roo
m table for the length of time it took for the screecher's mommy to enjoy her meal. He loves his five dollar bill. He's got big plans for it. It's going towards the purchase of a new section of the Pirate World that's taking over his bedroom. And that's where this all started, really. Sam's lust for the pirate's life has had him looting his parents' treasure chest a little too freely this summer.He received a Megablox "Pyrate" fort for Christmas from Grandma and Grandpa Arnold last year, little knowing that he was the proud owner of but a token of the full suite of fortresses, islands, ships and crews (human crews, skeleton crews, "goobie" crews...). When we picked up a small island set to go with the original kit, Sam pulled a giant "here's what you're still missing, kids" page out of the box and his head exploded. Bounty like he'd never imagined in his wildest dreams. He was so enamoured of these little (mostly cheap) toys, that it was fun to surprise him from time to time over the next few weeks with additional sets: Maroon Galley, Dubloon Mystery, and so on. Sam was thrilled. .. and then expectant. He'd lay out the "menu" to point out what he still needed.
So we had to reign it in. I found myself explaining again and again that he was lucky to have as many toys as he'd already collected, that there were plenty of kids with nothing. I bordered on exclaiming "do you realize how many starving orphans there are in Africa?" But if Sam was spoiled, commanding him to be grateful for his privileged life and a little bit scared that it could be unravelled by drought and epidemics wasn't going to change anything. Perhaps earning money towards toy purchases would teach him some restraint, some patience, and some awareness of the effort that goes into producing coins from the Magic Wallet of Plenty.
So while he's angling for extra pay and having to learn the line between what he's expected to do as a member of this household and what counts as a chore for his allowance, this little experiment might be working. While shopping for household supplies at Wal-Mart this morning, Sam asked if he could buy a $1 pirate (of course) Halloween bag. We explained that we had a perfectly good ghost bag at home. ("Perfectly good." I am such a mom). But, we added, if he thought it was worth it, he could buy it with his own money. He jumped at the chance to throw the bag in the cart. But when he saw some ghost and pirate craft stickers a few minutes later, he considered the same offer for several minutes. Did he need them? How many, really? And which ones? He spent the second $1.80 very carefully. Maybe it's sinking in a little.
Jeremy has taken the musical approach to this dilemma throughout: he's taught Sam the chorus to the Stones' "You Can't Always Get What You Want." That seems to be working, too. Or, at least, Sam sagely shares the lyrics with Carter whenever he pouts at being stonewalled by Tracey. We can't fault little boys for so much want in this commercial culture, and we can't limit them to basic needs simply to teach a lesson. So we're groping towards some middle ground: the land of allowances and wish lists and reasonable gifts. Hopefully, that's where Sam will learn greater respect for his belongings and gratitude for just how many of them there are. And to stop asking to be paid for brushing his teeth.
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