Those of you who know me well know that I tend to have fairly strong feelings about money, investing, debt, and all other finance-related subjects. Misconceptions abound but I think on the whole, “financially conservative” would be a fair label that encompasses my approach (at least from my perspective…).

So, naturally, the topics of money, Caleb, and financial responsibility have come up many times between Megan and I since Caleb came into our lives — indeed, even as far back as during the pre-ultrasound days. Thankfully, and perhaps miraculously (per the track record of most couples), Megan and I are basically on the same page about how to introduce money and responsibility into Caleb’s life. We’ve discussed many times the various options from an allowance, money for chores, no money at all (he would only get what he earns), money for specific needs, and many other options.

I don’t think we have yet firmly determined what option or combination of options we prefer to try with Caleb, but we have come to an agreement that financial intelligence, responsibility and education are extremely important. And, for better or worse, the sooner the better…

Without going on too much of a rant, it amazes me how little financial education most kids receive. Why is it that saving is a foreign concept to most 20-year olds, and most people consider it healthy to use a credit card as a convenient mechanism for, “buy it now, pay for it later?” What about investing? Saving for retirement? The notion of compound interest? Opportunity cost? Return on investment? Risk levels and what investment options are accordingly appropriate? Bonds? And on, and on, and on…

For as long as I can remember, I’ve been actively involving Caleb in our regular daily “commerce” whether that involves purchasing food at a grocery store, or consolidating loose change. There are still many subjects that are far too detailed to broach at the moment (for instance, how many people really know the true definition of money? Hint: It’s not just the currency you might put in your wallet…), but there are also a fair number that can and should be taught, practiced, stressed, and explored at his age (just shy of 3 years old).

The first is the concept of buying things. If you think about “goods” from the perspective of a 2-year old, why wouldn’t the refrigerator magically always be stocked with food? Absent exposure to the reality of shopping for food, paying for it, and restocking the shelves of the refrigerator, a 2-year old has little reason to believe otherwise. Accordingly, the exercise of shopping (selecting a store, picking out goods, and then exchanging “money” for those goods) is an excellent first step. Things do not just appear — we have to find resources, select them, and exchange something of value to take them into our posession.

Caleb is regularly by my side picking out groceries and paying for them (I more or less always let him hand over the cash or a credit card [yes, we use credit cards, and heavily, but never carry a balance. If the interest is there, sometime I'll broach the subject of arbitrage, credit, healthy leveraging of "float," and how credit cards and other short-term debt instruments are actually phenomenal tools for those with their eyes open and finances in order.]). When we are missing something at home, apple juice, for instance, Caleb will declare that we need to go to the store and buy some more. Excellent — lesson 1 accomplished.

But now we have to deal with the more abstract concepts: what is money, where does it come from, how do we obtain it, what happens when it runs out, and what is its value? Sweet. Those are some pretty meaty concepts for a 2-year old (and again, at least from my perspective, evidently most 20-year olds).

The other night Caleb started talking about sharing with his friends “Mommy and Daddy’s money.” While this is a fairly innocent extension of the concept of sharing possessions with friends, I saw it as an excellent opportunity to start imbuing on Caleb the differences between “money” and toys, and why sharing the former is a bit more multi-layered than sharing the latter.

He and I had a short conversation about how Mommy and Daddy’s money was not for him to share and that it came into our possession as a result of the two of us working and earning wages and that we use it to pay for our house, our food, and a few other concrete items. He seemed to be staying with me so I told him that if he wanted to share money with his friends that he would have to earn his own, and to do so he would have to do a job of some kind. (Here’s where methodology, intent, teaching styles and so many other factors get muddled. Just bear with me — I know this is not the perfect approach though I will say that based on how Caleb internalizes things, I think it is absolutely the right approach for him.)

He seemed to quickly grasp the concept that if he wanted his own money he would have to earn it through some type of job. He did at one point suggest that he could borrow our money and I quickly squashed that idea with a very firm, “Mommy and Daddy do not borrow money Caleb, we only buy things if we have enough money and always try and save as much money as possible.” (Truthfully, we do borrow for specific items but are again very conservative about debt. We’ll only borrow for things like an education or a home, and always with the goal of obtaining the best rate and paying off the debt as quickly as possible. And technically, using a credit card, even when you never carry a balance, is also “borrowing” but again that gets into arbitrage, float, etc.)

So, the concept of earning money was broached and Caleb was ready to grab it by the horns. Megan and I let it sit for a day and discussed privately what kind of jobs we could give him and how much was reasonable for him to earn as a result. We agreed that we pretty firmly did not want to compensate him monetarily for “chores” or those tasks which he should reasonably be expected to complete as a normal responsibility (e.g. cleaning his room, putting things away that he uses in the house, etc.). But realistically, how many tasks are there that are not chore-based that you can give a 2-year old?

After discussing options for a while, we settled on giving him the job of feeding our dog Nadine. Megan noted that he is already pretty good at it (doesn’t make a mess, more or less gives her the right amount of food, can open and close the bag himself, etc.). Moreover, it is a task that can only be done twice a day, must always be completed, and needs to be done with relative care. Plus, he loves Nadine so it is a good choice regardless.

As an aside, one of the things I like most about it is that he can ONLY do the job twice a day, so his earnings are limited. When I was 5, my parents decided to pay me to pick up sticks in our yard. The pay rate was based on the number of sticks I picked up and not tied to any other metric. So I did what any other enterprising 5-year old would do. I gathered all of the biggest sticks I could find, plopped myself on our front porch, and quickly broke them down into hundreds of small twigs. Needless to say I made some pretty good money in those 10 minutes. …and my Dad, his wallet considerably lighter, was stuck picking up the sticks I left remaining in the yard…

While I want to encourage the same out-of-of-the-box thinking in Caleb, I want it to come healthfully and through a desire to be more strategic about his finances. At this point, as he is just now starting to dabble with the responsibility, I don’t want to move him along too quickly. And in watching him spend his earnings, I think the caution is entirely warranted…

After two days of feeding Nadine, Caleb amassed 40¢! We decided to pay him a dime each time, choosing the rate to ensure that he would make enough in a short enough time to actually be able to spend it (and thus further cement the concept of earning and spending, and hopefully thereafter, saving) but not so much that he would feel as if the task was easy (e.g. “I’ll just feed Nadine one time and now I can buy whatever I want”).

I put the 4 dimes he had earned into a zip-lock bag and took him to the neighborhood store. I told him that it was his money and he could buy whatever he wanted with it (we’ll eventually need to set boundaries, but for the moment, I tried to make the experience fun and not overly complex so as to maintain his interest level). Unfortunately, there is not much one can purchase at a store for 40¢, and most of it is laden with high fructose corn syrup and obscenely name-contorted chemicals. Nonetheless, after scouring the store for something healthful in the sub $1.00 range, I took a deep breath, put my strict rules about sugar to the side, and guided him to the bins of lollipops, mints, and peanut butter/chocolate treats (15¢, 10¢, and 10¢ per unit each, respectively).

To his credit, when we first arrived in the store Caleb went straight for a bottle of water, but unfortunately would have had to feed Nadine another 10 times to be able to buy one. That said, it was a great opportunity to teach him that even though he had money, his purchasing power was limited. So after explaining that concept and scanning the shelves some more, I resigned myself to showing him the candy bins in the front, as mentioned above. We discussed asking the clerk how much everything cost, which Caleb handled like a champ. After asking how much a lollipop cost, he said “WOOOOW!” when offered the reply of 15¢.

Caleb and I discussed things for a few moments playing out what combination of treats he could buy with 40¢, and upon my guidance, he settled for one of each to the tune of 35¢. He handed over his earnings and received 5¢ back (which prompted another “WOOOOOW!”). Beaming, he carried his goods and change back home and went straight to Megan to proudly relay the experience.

As expected, and against my very uptight and normally firm notions about sugar (especially sugar in the evening), he wolfed down all three of his sweets. As was his right — he earned it.

I am sure I come across as many things through this blog but a computer geek and an economics/finance junkie are probably not at the top of the list. Well… I stumbled across an incredibly creative website this afternoon while reading one of my favorite economics blogs. (Click on the image to the right to see the various images I created.)

The site, Wordle, creates an image based on a block of text you provide. The resulting image can be manipulated some with rough controls that allow you to alter the color palette, general arrangement of the words, as well as the typeface used. The text you submit is parsed using a number of criteria and then individual words are pulled out and arranged according to some logical order, and given weight based on frequency of use.

In looking at the images I created (see them all by clicking on the above image), I clearly have a recurring emphasis. Caleb’s name is consistently prominent as are a few select other words. Rather than blather on about what I see in each image, take a look for yourself.

This is not my normal fare for this blog, but I couldn’t resist… Check out this snippet from an article in the New York Times today:

As banks grow tighter with their dollars in a period of uncertainty, families are running up against credit limits, forcing many to live within their incomes.

Who would have thought that apparently living within one’s income was such a novel concept?

Caleb, if there is any one tidbit I would hope to distill the topic of personal finance down into, it would be to live within your means (and implicitly, I hope, to intelligently save the remainder).

Satiated from our breakfast and soccer jaunt, Caleb and I came back home and looked for the next morning activity to undertake before his nap. I suggested cleaning the house and taking an early nap and he suggested baseball. …so baseball it was.

The only problem with baseball is that at the moment, Caleb quickly tires of my horrid pitching, so we typically play T-Ball instead with me holding a paper towel roll as a T. Getting a sudden spark of inspiration, I decided it was time that we make him a permanent T (perhaps it was the “bats” — water bottles, dog bones, plastic celery stalks, and anything else remotely cylindrical — flying by my face at the teetering ball that made me look for a more static solution).

Armed with a mass of tape, some boxes, and the trusty paper towel roll, I am proud to say we concocted a pretty useful T. Click on the photo, or here, to see how we made it, and then check out the movie below to see it in action!

Before he made it to the sauté stage, Caleb had to peel and mince all of that garlic. Check out the rocking action he uses with the knife…

Caleb loves to “cook” now and is actually a really big help. I always give him cloves of garlic to peel and he has recently started to sharpen his mincing skills (let’s hear it Poftak — yet again I forgot the terms). We were making quesadillas from scratch (just the dough for the tortillas, I suppose) and I gave him 5 cloves to attend to. What goes better with quesadillas than freshly minced garlic?

Yay! Caleb had his first stitches today! (Click here to see a few photos, or on the photo to the right.)

OK, so I’m trying to be overly positive about the experience. It was quite traumatic, but perhaps more so for Megan and I than for Caleb. Earlier this morning we were hanging out in our apartment trying to get ready for the day (it’s Megan’s birthday — we were planning on a family breakfast), and suddenly Caleb was wailing is in Megan’s arms, rubbing his eyes furiously, and smearing blood all over her hands and cheek. In short order we decided that he had tripped or slipped in our living room and after falling backward, rammed his head on a protruding corner of the molding that ran along the base of the wall between our kitchen and living room.

After soaking up some of the blood, even a quick glance at the wound would tell most anyone that stitches were needed. The cut was deep, long, and spreading out. (Don’t read this sentence if you want to avoid a more gory description — essentially the little skin that is on that part of his head had been split by the corner, pretty much down to the bone. The wound was opening up, and seemed to be widening as the minutes passed. It was incredibly obvious that it needed to be cleaned and closed up quickly…)

During a quick phone call to the health clinic just a few blocks from our home, we were assured that yes, they can do stitches. The cut is on his head, we pointed out, and we gave a pretty descriptive overview of the magnitude. No problem, they said, bring him in.

So we quickly walked over, nixing the emergency room option, more relaxed that our son was going to be attended to quickly and stitched up soon.

Whoops! I guess we don’t do stitches for head wounds at this clinic and you have to go to the hospital! But why don’t I put some tap water on this un-sanitized gauze pad (open in a drawer) directly on the cut while I give you that information! Yay!

Our frustration with the process was just beginning.

Forty five minutes or so burned waiting to hear news we thought we had clarified unequivocally up front, we grabbed our car and then trudged through traffic on our way to the emergency room at Mass General.

(As a side note, I impressed on the last person we talked to at the clinic that we were *somewhat* irritated at the process and that we would appreciate it if they would contact the hospital to figure out if we could be admitted more efficiently than the standard wait… insurance forms… wait some more… here’s a towel for your blood… whoops, more forms… OK someone can see you now… the doctor will be in shortly… do you want some water?… the doctor is coming in just a minute… what are your symptoms?… just a minute… more water?… hi, I’m from triage, what are your symptoms?… hi, I’m the doctor, what are your symptoms?… more forms… hi, I’m the PA that is going to be helping you, what are your symptoms?… process most of us have endured at least once in our lives. To her credit, she did call. In fact, she called Megan’s cell phone after Caleb was discharged from the hospital and followed up as well. I thought that was very nice and thoughtful.

The process, despite the phone call, was just as expected, unfortunately. The triage station in the ER seemed to be completely devoid of any kind of urgency or emergency (just what exactly are the 10 nurses, administrators, and other hospital staff that are standing around waiting for? — 2 of the 4 triage stations are open, and my boy is collecting airborne junk in his wound every second!). They handled my insistent requests (can I have some gauze please?) with a certain poise, however. They must deal with quite a few fathers during their shifts.

The chairs in the main waiting area led to the triage nurse (who was fantastically efficient — thank you), then some forms and lots of questions. I repeated for about the 10th time that morning that he had a laceration, it was quite deep, about a half an inch long, and needed to be cleaned and sutured… Name? Social security number? Date of birth? Religious affiliation (are they serious?)? Etc. Etc. Etc.

Triage led to another waiting room, deeper into the hospital (yay! we were making progress). As soon as we plopped down in the chairs, we decided Caleb most likely had to go to the bathroom. He and Megan were gone for no more than five minutes. Naturally, the attending pediatric specialist visited with me for 2 seconds about a minute into Megan and Caleb’s absence. Funny, if I had known she was going to high tail it to some other part of the hospital, I would have grabbed Megan and Caleb from the bathroom. When they returned, we were told that we would have to wait a while to see the specialist again.

Me: How long?

Her: Oh a while, she’s probably with another patient or something.

Me: Can we find out please — would it be five minutes or more like twenty?

Her: We’re not sure Sir — she could be anywhere in the hospital and is probably with another patient.

Me: He just needs his cut cleaned out and stitched up — it’s been open for almost two hours now, can we just get someone to close him up?

Her: Like I said Sir, it will be a while. (Sigh, no urgency. I’m almost off in fifteen minutes. Rock on!)

Me, internally: (You’ve got to be kidding me — she definitely does not have kids. Or a dog. Or a cat. Or a fish. Or a pet rock.) …then out loud: Here’s the thing — some kind of information would be much appreciated so please let us know if he is going to be seen shortly or in a long time — he just needs his head cleaned up and stitched together. Thank You.

Miraculously, our wait was subsequently only about five minutes long (as mentioned, this is now around two hours post-head wound incident) and we were brought to a room in a different part of the hospital.

Oh thank goodness — an undersea mural on the wall for Caleb to look at (he had already devoured the cereal bar we were saving as a post-suture treat, and was clearly getting restless). Another new face, and I gave the overview of the incident for the 20th time that morning. I again reiterated how important it was for his head to get cleaned out sooner rather than later (it was clotting too much by that point and I was worried that the irrigation process would be really painful for Caleb, plus all of the junk that had likely soaked into the wound by that point). Perhaps she was a parent, or at least in possession of a higher than average emotional intelligence, or perhaps she read in my eyes that I was not going to repeat the story or my request again — it was time to take care of our son — but she showed the first inkling of urgency we had seen that morning.

We were whisked to yet another room (alas, no mural, just sterile white walls and a ton of gadgets), and finally progress was starting to happen. Caleb’s pajamas came off, we wrapped him up in a towel, I got on the gurney next to him, and while Megan held the bedpan over his ear, the doctor (perhaps a PA) started irrigating his head. First Caleb squirmed a bit because it was cold. When the first layer of clotted blood came off, then he started to show how painful it was (those of you who have had a water rinse in a laceration know what I am talking about). Caleb did phenomenal — we were so proud of him.

A short discussion between Megan and I and the doctors about sutures versus staples, and we all seemed to agree that the quick stapling method would probably be the best approach (it was a good choice for the type of wound as well as for its speed). Sutures would have required a local anesthetic (which burns quite a bit at first), and then for my two year old to keep his head still for minutes on end while the stitches (probably 3-5 of them) were sown in place. So staples it was.

They irrigated the cut once more and then had me lay Caleb on his side. Caleb started laying down as they were instructing me, so I simply covered him with some towels to keep him warm and then held him close. I think there were several people in the room, but I was only aware of Caleb (he was squeezing a penguin they gave him), the nurse holding his head down and to the side, and the person holding the staple gun.

As soon as the first one went into his head, you could tell that it hurt Caleb a lot. They thankfully only took a few seconds to put the second one in, and moments later I was holding and rocking Caleb trying to help him deal with the stress, shock, and certainly the pain. He was clearly hurting, but crouching down, I pointed out the foot break on the gurney. Transfixed, he started talking with me about it, and the doctor showed him how they can raise the bed up with just a foot pedal.

Good boy! Convinced everything was over, he sat patiently while his head was wrapped in gauze and then was very polite and thankful when the doctor gave him a stash of q-tips (he was playing with the one in the second photo) and the bed pan, irrigation syringe, and a plastic bowl.

Overall, Caleb was amazingly calm, helpful, polite, and bore all of the unpleasantness with poise. We are so proud of you Boots!

Oh yeah, and Happy Birthday Megan!

Megan, Caleb and I ventured up to beautiful Montréal to celebrate our (Megan’s and mine, that is) five year wedding anniversary. We thought it would be a lot of fun to take a driving trip to Canada with Caleb, and heck, we deserved a fun trip for hitting such a milestone, right?

I’ll let the photos tell the story (click here or on the photo to check them out!).

On the left: Daddy’s Backpack. On the right: Caleb’s Backpack. After a lot of searching, I bought the latter earlier this afternoon as my main Christmas gift to Caleb. If you’ve been reading this blog for a while, you know that Caleb and I like to roam around Boston, or wherever else we are, having “adventures.” Mention to him that tomorrow is “Daddy Day” and ask him what he wants to do, and he’ll respond emphatically, “Have an adventure!”

Since we always load my red backpack (which he and I picked out together some months ago) with supplies before we head out the door for our adventures, he has built a strong connection to the backpack and having fun with me. If we are having a lazy afternoon, sometimes he’ll drag the backpack over to me and ask if I want to go outside and have an adventure. It is very cute and makes me very happy.

So, when thinking about what gift I could give him for Christmas, I decided it was time to get him his own backpack. I’ve been noodling on the idea for many weeks and tried a woman’s hydration pack on him during our trip to Vermont last month. The pack was the perfect overall size — the base of the pack rested perfectly at his hips, and it was narrow enough overall to appear to distribute weight well. Wanting to get him a functional pack, rather than simply one he’d “play” with, I became determined to find one that would fit and have everything he might want.

The one I settled on is from REI (just like my red one) and is specifically designed for kids. I am sure it is meant for a child a bit older than Caleb, but it is hard to discount that he is tall enough for the pack to fit him perfectly. I tried it on him in the store and loaded it up with a one-pound weight, and then later with a five-pound weight. He handled the latter like a champ, and since he’d probably never have more than a pound or two (some raisins, a few carrot sticks, a toy car, his sunglasses, maybe a sandwich, and possibly a smidgen of water) in the pack until he is bigger, I decided that we had finally found our pack.

As a plus it has a hydration bladder that rests inside the main compartment, though I think we’ll only fill it up with a small amount of water given the amount of weight it added when we tried it out at full capacity tonight.

At any rate, I really like to hem and haw over the gifts I give, even if it means that I don’t get someone something because I haven’t found or devised the right “thing.” I am very happy with the backpack and plan to stuff it with a few other special gifts as well that I know Caleb will appreciate.

I mentioned this briefly before, but will repeat it for posterity: my grandfather, Caleb’s only living great grandparent on my side of the family, passed away a few weeks ago, on November 6. We had only just recently reconnected after an embarrassingly long time since my last visit with him. Regardless, I feel blessed to have suddenly felt the urge to visit him a few months ago, despite having not seen him for many years, and hope that Caleb retains the few but happy memories he was able to form in the few hours we spent at his great grandfather’s side.

I am sure Caleb will remember a few things about the two times he met his great grandfather though I hope he remembers most how attentive my grandfather seemed when Caleb, Megan and I sang a few songs to him. We, of course, sang Caleb’s favorites such as ABCs, Twinkle-Twinkle, and Baa-Baa Black Sheep, so that he could sing along as well. It is hard to say how much my grandfather enjoyed the songs as he had lacked the ability to communicate or control most of his motor functions for many years prior to our visit, and seemed almost completely unresponsive when we were there, but it was clear that he was mustering every piece of energy he had to keep his eyes on us. …and I do believe I saw a bit of a twinkle.

I’ll never forget when we suggested that we take him outside in his wheel chair so he could feel some of the late autumn sunlight on his skin, and Caleb looked up at him with all sincerity and innocence and gently asked, “Do you want to go outside Great Grandpa?” You are such a sweet and compassionate person, Caleb. I love you dearly and know that you made my grandfather’s heart melt when you asked him that question.

The second of Caleb’s visits came a few weeks ago for the funeral, which was held in Hawthorne, NY two days after my grandfather’s death. There was a short viewing and then a respectful service and ceremony. I brought Caleb up to the casket once when we first arrived at the viewing, after explaining a few times on the car ride over that we would be visiting Great Grandpa, who would be sleeping. Caleb seemed to sense the weight of the moment as soon as we made our way up to the open casket, but didn’t appear to be disturbed or otherwise negatively impacted in any way. I found that tears didn’t come to me the first time I was by my grandfather’s side, which probably helped Caleb manage the experience as well.

The second time I brought him up was as the close family was paying their last respects. I was about to go up, having just followed my father, when I turned back and saw that Megan and Caleb were back in the room (they had taken a break). I was getting pretty emotional and decided that I had to give Caleb another opportunity to be with his Great Grandfather, if only for one more second. Also, I couldn’t think of anything more comforting in that moment than having my son in my arms, holding him as close and lovingly as I could.

This time, instead of reinforcing that Great Grandpa was sleeping, I told Caleb that he should say goodbye. Caleb whispered, “Goodbye Great Grandpa,” I touched my grandfather’s cheek a few times, told him that I loved him, said goodbye, and then held Caleb as close as I could manage as I walked away with tears finally starting to take me over.

I love you and miss you very much Grandpa, and I am so happy that you had a chance to meet your Great Grandson.

Megan took this shot while we were driving to the funeral. It was a quiet, beautiful day.

Megan also took this one. It was taken after the final ceremony ended as we were waiting to go inside a restaurant to have lunch with family. Caleb was sleeping in the back and I was more or less in a hazy state trying to parse everything that I had just experienced.