Life Lessons

Among the toys The Boy received for Christmas this year was the Lego version of Darth Vader's Tie Fighter.  He's only seen each movie once or twice (except for Episode III, which he hasn't seen yet - not sure his sister could handle the ending) but is totally plugged in to the mythos.  Playing hours of Lego Star Wars on the Playstation 2 nurtured it, but building his own ship just cemented his love for the saga.  And made him thirsty for more.  For his birthday, he asked for and received the Lego versions of the X-Wing fighter and General Grievous' starfighter.  But in between then, he lobbied to buy an Imperial AT ST with his own hard earned can-crushing money.

We tried to dissuade him, citing all the toys he had just received at Christmas and the gifts he was sure to receive for his birthday in March.  Even if he didn't receive it from us, he might from one of his aunts or uncles. I also explained to him that if he bought it, he'd wipe out nearly all the money he had saved up to that point.  If he spent it, he'd have to save longer for purchases like the laser dart tag and Lego Star Wars II video game that he'd been talking about longer than the Lego model.  Words like these seemed to fall from my mouth much too easy.  With good reason.  They were the same ones my dad would use on me time and time again when I had money burning a hole in my pocket.  Now I know that he was trying to build a good financial decision foundation in his son.  But back then I resented it.  It seemed he brought it up with every purchase I wanted to make, to the point that I rarely bought anything and spent Saturday mornings counting quarters ($.75/week allowance) like King Midas.  This lasted until college when I had my own job and cheap access to used records.  But that's a story for another day.  I promised myself that I would never use those words to manipulate (which is what I thought happened to me) - only to educate.  So when I heard myself begin Dad's diatribe, I changed it to become a dialoge.  After explaining the principles of "which do you want more", I asked him if he understood and never brought it up again.  It seemed to work until we got back from vacation and he saw the girls celebrating their birthdays with gifts.  The "can I buy it now?" question resurfaced.  Busy-ness during the month of April has prevented us from getting together with my sister and her family for gift exchanges, so we were still able to use the soon-to-be gift excuse to hold him off.

Fast forward to today.  Prudence left at noon to attend a women's retreat with some other moms, which left me in sole charge of the kids.  Friday afternoons, The Boy and Em attend a gym and swim program at the local YMCA, so I took time off work to take them.  On the way, The Boy asked me if we could go to Walmart so he could buy the AT ST.  I reminded him that we would get together in the next couple of weeks for more gift exchanges.  He informed me that he now wanted to create an army of AT STs, and that buying one before he received one from his aunt would work out in his plan.  After making sure of this, I agreed to let him buy one.  So he counted out his $22 (made up mostly of $1 bills and quarters), put it in a zip lock bag, and tucked it away in his backpack.  After gym and swim, we visited the Walmart where he last saw one.  They were out.  Luckily, there is another Walmart within a few miles (almost becoming like Starbucks in this part of the country).  They were out as well.  I told him we would try Target and Toys R Us.  If they didn't have one, he wasn't meant to have one.  But when we arrived at Target, they had 2.  He took one to the cashier and gave her 2 fists of money - bills in one hand, metal in the other.  She didn't even count the quarters - she just took my word for it (yes, I did recount it!) and gave him his receipt.  After all the waiting and work it took to get the goods, I expected to see a "bouncy Tigger" with a big grin on his face.  But he simply took the bag and left the store.

Five minutes down the road, I heard him say something that will stay with me the rest of my life:  "I thought I'd be happier, but I just feel empty."  I asked him what he meant by that.  He said he expected the toy to bring joy, but he didn't feel any.  Even though he couldn't verbalize it, it wasn't that he didn't want the toy.  He just wasn't sure that this was the right time or way to get it.  I believe he also realized that he didn't really buy the "army of AT STs" rationalization he'd sold himself earlier. We talked about the idea that everything we do/give/receive comes as a cost.  And that we have to weight that cost.  He asked me if the choice he'd made to buy the toy was a good one.  I told him only he could make that decision.  But I asked him to think about it overnight before opening the box - just in case he wanted to return it.  He asked me how much Lego Star Wars II cost.  When I told him he went silent for a few minutes.  Trust me, this is rare for him.  He just stared at the box.  After a while he asked if it would be okay to wait to build the AT ST until after we saw his aunt.  "Not a problem, buddy."  Then he wished he had a good hiding place for the toy.  I told him I'd take care of it.  After all this, he seemed to be at peace with the decision.  Only once later in the night did he come to me with a request to open the box (while it was still out on the counter), but he stopped himself in mid-sentence.  He realized he was being tempted to go back on his agreement, and overcame it.

Sometimes the best lessons are learned when you're not in school.  My dad would be so proud.