Our Work Around Money

It has been a defining week for young Trinidad. He points out to me that ever since his eighth birthday (July 3), he has been looking for or doing "work" by way of selling everything he can bring himself to part with. He notes that his skill and will in this area has grown as one could measure by the number of hours he is willing to sit with his wares at the end of the driveway, his efforts to lay them out at peak hours of commerce, and his blossoming creativity in the advertising department. Yesterday, he sold $16 worth of [junk], and even acquired a Hawaain shirt collection from the neighbor across the street who supported his efforts to have something for everyone.

For myself, I am glad to see the stuff go, delighted by his focused sense of purpose, and challenged by his deepening love affair with money. That boy's learning curve is forever my curve ball. When he took breaks from the golden opportunity at his storefront, Trinidad moaned that he would not ever get the $13 for the pitcher plant he was desperate to buy, that he had not yet made his financial goal, and oh oh oh... it was just not enough money!

Deep breath in. Such clarity. In order to create the full spaciousness for his challenge, I must let go of all of the small hand clutching tendencies that I, myself, have on the Almighty Dollar. Hurray! What a golden opportunity for me.

Yesterday, Trin and Sam struck out on a new economic adventure and traded their work for cash by picking blueberries and selling them for $3/pound. At the patch (with me picking for the winter), they picked a full ten pounds while creating intrigue with friends while choosing teams and spying on each other's progress. In the end, all of the children contributed to the boys' project. I so enjoyed watching them hiding through the maze of bushes, appearing occassionally as growling blueberry monsters, and shouting their delights at finding "blueberry heaven."

Such was the bliss of workplay that they fell into over time in their own community. But in the beginning, ease was not to be had for my oldest entrepreneur. He experienced a panic attack when he looked at the blueberries collecting so slowly, he thought, at the bottom of his bucket. How on earth could he pick 7 pounds in just one day? He had orders for that, he told me, and he did not want to disappoint his customers. They may never order from him again!

His worry built to a crescendo in which his whole body nearly imploded before my eyes. He got so hot he thought he would pop, his skin crawled, and he burst into tears. Sitting in my lap for empathy, he sobbed that this was so important to him. This was real work, and he wanted to do it for for the well being of himself and his customers. He walked through the fear of failure.

And then my youngest turned up with his friend, both on their own spaceship. They heard Trinidad's tale and determined to help him. The younger boys picked with willingness, always under the guise of play and in the end, all five kids (transporting the end of our street to the blueberry patch) meshed work and play, declaring themselves siblings by choice.

We are doing our work around money.