If you’re new around here, I’m Sarah. I have a degree in child development, two children, and no idea what I’m doing. I like to write about it. Welcome.
It has begun. My child has come to understand, through the shared wisdom that young children receive from somewhere, even when they barely interact with others, that money matters. Money buys things, things are fun, and, most importantly, not having the things you want, especially when you know all you’d need to get them is a few bucks, is an unendurable agony.
A few months ago, it seemed that he happily accepted that material goods are bestowed upon children at holidays, birthdays, and at the whim of adults. This week, he woke up one morning jonesing hard for a stuffed version of a dragon named Toothless, and sulked for an hour because I would not buy it for him. No matter that he has, approximately, 9,000 stuffed animals. No matter that the dragon comes from a movie he insisted was so scary he would “finish it when I’m older.” Not even my charming where I pretend to be someone going to the doctor because I’m concerned about a strange sound that is emanating from my butt, only to discover it’s just bad farts, could lured him from his funk.
Perhaps the allowance did this to him. He came up with the plan himself - he would clean his Legos off of the floor before bed and do one other “bonus” chore each day and earn two “coins” for his treasure box. These chores varied in difficulty and utility (watering the Christmas tree, for example, created additional chores for the adults). But we were proud when he gathered his savings into a gold drawstring bag, asked to go to the bookstore, and even added them up, with less help than I had expected, to purchase something. Well, I thought, my work is done!
But one trip to the bookstore does not a positive relationship with money make. He now wants to browse online. He wants to know how close $2.50 is to twenty five dollars (well honey…not). He cries and says, “If I don’t have the draggy lovey I will never be happy. Don’t you want me to be happy???!!”
I know I want my child to “build his disappointment muscles” aaaaaand I am amazed at how tempting these lines of reasoning are for me. My parents, most of the time, really couldn’t afford to buy things like this for their five children, and were people who, because of a variety of factors, didn’t have much hunger for or attachment to “stuff.” I, on the other hand, just spent $40 on a silk and leather mask that I was sure would bring me the greatest happiness but that just makes me look like Couture Bain.
What, dear readers, is a parent who is actually quite materialistic and now that I think about it perhaps addicted to online shopping as a way to dampen the deep pain and anxieties of living but in her heart has buddhist aspirations of freedom from material things but also doesn’t have the energy to raise an ascetic in this culture, to do???????
There are many ideas out there about teaching your child the value of money. Haters abound, but most people agree that an allowance, when done well, helps children develop financial literacy, feel agency and pride, experience safely the mistakes we can make with our money, and even builds generosity. The half-crazy, half-amazing Mr. Money Mustache paid his 9-year-old 10 cents for every mile walked or biked, gave him interest for investing his money rather than spending, and was convinced that having control over his own money made his son much more likely to give it away. I like the “hybrid” allowance model where kids get a flat rate each week just for existing, but can add to their coffers if they do special jobs around the house.
But what of the deeper ethical and psychological issues behind this insatiable need for a stuffed dragon? One article from the Buddhist Publication Society insists that, since materialism and Christianity are the two “extremes” of the West, we must teach children about the fallacies of both. They also warn us against the evils of becoming fixated on “choral singing.” Interesting.
This 10-minute podcast episode from the often helpful folks at the Greater Good Science Center discusses how parents inadvertently teach kids materialism. Our sins include: living in a materialistic culture, thinking that things will make us happy even though they won’t, buying shit for our kids because we don’t have time to actually connect with them or because we feel guilty. Check. Check. Checkity-check-check-check-check. When parents are unfulfilled for other reasons, we learn to fill our own need for connectedness and security, and in turn those of our children, with things. Of course, some of this arises from situations where a family really doesn’t have enough of their basic material needs met. But when that isn’t the case with your family (see above discussion of $40 vanity mask), what do you do?
To begin the process of detaching from materialism, it’s suggested that we examine and even discuss with our children that having more material goods might seem like it will make us happy, but it never really does, and often we even feel worse after purchasing something then we did before we had it (this is a legit study finding). We can also limit our kid’s exposure to advertising, which is easy for my little ones but seems impossible for older kids. Being critical of advertising is good too. I love how my husband, who works in advertising himself, has taught our children to respond to commercials. “What are they trying to sell us now dad??! We don’t need a cheeseburger!”
I liked this nugget: “Encourage family and friends to give your children the gift of time and experiences rather than things,” as experiences tend to lead to more happiness. Another cool idea is that an opposing force to materialism is gratitude. Good ol’ “studies show” that people who are more materialistic feel less gratitude, and even that people who are materialistic are unhappy because they experience less gratitude than others. Many claim that you can actually increase gratitude by practicing it more, and there are simple ways to do this with kiddos, like just talking about it more. My friend Leigh’s kids add a “root” to the standard “rose, bud, and thorn” dinner table activity to represent for one thing they’re grateful for. If you can get your kids to sit at the dinner table….And then there’s the “meeting their needs in other ways than getting them a new Ninjago Lego set” thing, which is of course fundamental but also, does take time and care.
But really, the stickiness in all of this is that culture is the air we breath. It is very hard to live in this country and not participate in consumerism, capitalism, materialism. For now, while my children are young, I am trying to mediate it, check my own shit, and propose small rebellions. But I’m excited for someone to read this and teach me better.
I lurv your comments. How are you and your family thinking about all of this shit? Do you also have an addiction to designer face masks? Weigh in below!
Three dope things:
-I’m a speaker at The ADHD Summit, which starts soon and allows you to view all sorts of workshops and talks by people way more smart and famous than I am. You can get check it out here.
-Fellow educational psychologist Liz Angoff, who also sometimes dances salsa in the streets, wrote a friggin fantastic book that helps kids understand their brains and strengths and challenges. If you work with kiddos, neurodivergent or otherwise, get yourself to her Kickstarter page.
-My girl Jen Bloomer at Radici Studios is doing a free webinar for parents, caregivers, and teachers called 5 Ways to Use Art to Raise Anti-racist Kids. It’s February 2nd (8pm PST), 3rd (5pm PST), or 4th (12pm PST). She is seriously kick-ass and people love her classes.