One morning last week, Soren was helping me to dry the breakfast dishes and telling me about his new dream.
"Tandem bikes are really cool. I would really like to have a tandem bike."
"That does sound nice," I said, absently.
Soren continued, "Carl and I could ride together on a tandem bike. It would be so fun." He sounded so wistful and for a moment, I could almost see his vision. I could just picture him and Carl, riding happily together down the driveway with the sunlight glinting around the corners of my mind's eye. It was such a happy scene. Oh, if only Soren could have a tandem bike, then the world would be a brighter place.
"Will you get me a tandem bike?" he asked.
"No," I replied, casting the dream aside. "That's not how I choose to spend my money."
We kept drying dishes and I figured that was the end of it. When the counters were clean, Soren hurried off to go draw something and I started folding laundry.
"How do you order something from a company?" Soren asked from the table.
Thinking this was a completely new and unrelated topic, I answered, "Well, when I was a kid, you would send an order in the mail. But now-a-days you usually just order on the internet."
He kept working quietly.
After a few minutes of busily coloring at the table, Soren asked, "Can I have an envelope?"
And that was when I put it together. "Why do you want an envelope?" I asked cautiously.
"To mail something," was his cryptic reply. So I got up and came to the table to see what he had been working on. There I saw this drawing (which confirmed my suspicions):
He kept working quietly.
After a few minutes of busily coloring at the table, Soren asked, "Can I have an envelope?"
And that was when I put it together. "Why do you want an envelope?" I asked cautiously.
"To mail something," was his cryptic reply. So I got up and came to the table to see what he had been working on. There I saw this drawing (which confirmed my suspicions):
"Soren," I began, "if you mail this to a bike company, they will not be able to send you a bike because you didn't send them any money."
"That's ok. I will send them my allowance!" He hurried to his room to get his piggy bank.
"But you do not have enough money to buy a tandem bike."
"Well, would you give me some more money?"
"I will give you your June allowance in a few days but even then you will not have enough money to buy a tandem bike."
It hurt watching the hope die in his eyes.
"Well, maybe you could give me a bigger allowance?" he tried.
"No, Soren, I'm sorry. That's just not in my budget."
Not one to be deterred, Soren came up with a new plan. "I have an idea. I could borrow some money from someone else!" And he got his shoes from the closet and began to put them on.
"Who are you going to ask?" I wondered.
"Sister Cowart," he replied. Well, that seemed all right. Sister Cowart was my best friend so I wouldn't be too embarrassed to have my son go begging at her door. I also knew that she was a good enough friend not to be embarrassed either but to help me in this teaching moment. It seemed like a good opportunity for him to learn that money wasn't easy to come by. So off he went, hopes high.
I later asked my friend about the encounter. She said he gave an amazing sales pitch. But he came back home empty handed and rather teary-eyed. I held out an arm to him and he snuggled up against me, looking so forlorn.
"Oh, Soren," I sighed. "I really wish I could buy you a tandem bike. I think it would be so fun. Unfortunately, it is just not in our budget."
"Could you do the budgeting today?" he pleaded, seeing a possible loophole.
"Actually, I was planning on doing the budgeting today but I am not going to change our budget. It doesn't work like that," I explained. "If I budgeted enough money to buy a tandem bike for you, I would not be able to save money for our family to buy a house someday."
At that, his eyes lit back up. "I have a great idea!" he exclaimed. "We don't have to buy a house! We could live here forever!"
"No, Soren. Someday we will move into a house and I am saving money for that right now." I wanted to close this conversation for good so I added emphatically, "I am not going to give you money for a tandem bike."
At that, he began to cry. Real tears! I felt so sad for him. He had patiently and persistently tried every tactic he could think of to obtain, what seemed to him, a worthy goal. It even seemed a worthy goal to me! Against my better judgement, I began to wish that I was filthy rich and could buy him a tandem bike. I wanted to make his wild dream come true. Instead I held him on my lap while he cried.
He cried pretty hard for about 5 minutes then he got back up and went to play. He has mentioned the tandem bike a few times since then but never with the same intensity.
Just this morning, he suggested that he could tape his bike together with Carl's to make a tandem bike. But he didn't end up doing it. Which is good because that sounded a little dangerous.
Comments