Money, it's a crime/ Share it fairly but don't take a slice of my pie / Money, so they say /Is the root of all evil today / But if you ask for a raise it's no surprise that they're / Giving none away
(Pink Floyd)

The above will, hopefully, become Flipper's new mantra. I have been debating/over thinking/wrestling with the concept of kid+money. And not how much I spend on her, either.

What, she doesn't actually need the incredibly expensive organic cotton Hanna Andersson dresses I buy?

Rather, I have been kicking around-for far too long- the concept of an allowance. I thought about it, talked about it, wasted about 10,000 hours on the Internet "researching" it, read about in my trillion parenting books ... and STILL couldn't figure it out.

And, why now? Well, for some reason, five seems like the right age. For another, I hope she will grow up to be better about money than I am, although this his no fault of my upbringing. Evidence for Nature OVER Nurture: Me, my sister. Raised identically. Even shared a room forever. Her: Great with money. Me: Suck at it.

So I did what I find myself doing too often in those parenting journey: Over thinking and then taking no action. But I finally made a decision, after reading about what another mother did, and last Saturday morning we started.

Three Mason jars. Three labels. One red sticker. The labels are: To Have, To Save and To Give.

Sounds like wedding vows, do they not? Anyway, they are pretty self-explanatory: One for money she can spend, if she so desires, as soon as she gets it. One for saving, and one for charity, a concept she doesn't really get yet, although she is aware that there are people and animals out there that need our help.

Once, at an exit ramp, we watched an old man with a long gray beard and a kind face stand, resigned, in the broiling heat, begging for money. She asked about him, what he was doing, where is his house, where is his family? His friends? You know, the questions that don't really have answers, even for grown-ups. I asked her if she thought we should give him money. She hesitated, and said yes. So we did. How much money does Flipper get? Four quarters a week. Two to "have", and one each for the "save" and "give" jars. Since she can't read yet, the "have" jar is marked with a piece of red electrical tape. Note: She gets none of this. The day after she happily dropped her quarters into the jars, she took her "have" jar to me and said, "Let's go out to eat tonight. I'll pay!!"

The discussion about why her paltry 60 cents (she found a dime on the floor) wouldn't buy us fries from McDonald's was exhausting, to say the least. Money makes little sense when you don't understand math. Actually, money makes little sense to ME, and I understand math. As long as no letters like x or y are involved. But finally, she got it. Or, what she really got was this: WE ARE NOT GOING OUT. GO FIND SOMETHING TO DO. NOW.

For me, I have begun to stockpile quarters, since it will be lamer than lame if I come up short on Saturday, and I have held fast to the no-eating-out on 60 cents edict I threw down last weekend. But it is hard to do, this waiting to see how this will play out in the next year or so, and remembering that I have entered the area of allowance, and now there is no going back. She'll be able to save for a toy and give to the charity of her choice, be it the man on the exit ramp or something to save animals. Or maybe just go out to eat.

Empty jars, one day to be full.

Leigh appears every Monday on TriangleMom2Mom. Read more about Leigh at her blog Flipper and Me.