Monetary lessons come from an unlikely source

“Cooper has too much money,” my mom told me.

I was taken aback. Too much money? How much money should a 12-year-old have? How much money does he have, anyway?

“What makes you say this?” I asked.

“I’ve offered to pay him for helping me around the house, but he says he doesn’t need any money.”

Her assumption was that I buy him whatever he wants, and therefore, he’s developed no sense of monetary responsibility. He’s lazy. He has no hunger.

It’s true, I’ve bought him some things since Christmas, and I suppose he could have bought these items himself. They include: a pair of tennis shoes from the thrift store, a mouth guard for flag football, a hoodie with arms long enough to reach his hands, a package of socks and a $15 drone. He did offer to pay for the drone, but since it’s been a month since his birthday and he still hasn’t received a gift from us (because he can’t think of anything he wants), we decided to spring for the drone.

Aside from the drone, however, I think he would have just gone without, satisfied with clothes that are too small, wearing my socks, even if they’re girly colors, and flopping around in oversized shoes he’d scavenge from my husband. He’d make do.

He does occasionally spend some of the money that mysteriously appears from a drawer in his room. His stash usually hovers around $50, although his wallet’s a little fatter after his recent birthday. A couple times a month, he’ll toss me a wad of small bills and ask me to buy his sister something she wants off eBay. He’ll occasionally go to Gamestop to buy a game — which he wisely buys from the used bin. Recently, he’s bought himself lamps; plants — both fake and living; an occasional hot dog, and artwork, stuffed animals and other curiosities he’s found at garage sales.

Somehow, it doesn’t feel like we’re spoiling him.

If he were given a credit card and set free in the mall, I doubt he’d come home empty-handed. He’d load up with puppies and video game consoles, and then he’d buy items for others. He perceives that others have desires and needs for money, he just doesn’t happen to be that desperate. He’ll toss a bill in a collection for an animal shelter. He has passed me money and asked me to give it to friends who are less fortunate than us. He’s even offered to kick in for groceries when I express astonishment at how quickly he empties our cabinets.

I agree with my mom, he’s a hard kid to “motivate” (which, if we’re honest, is just a PC term for bribery). He lives life on his own terms, satisfied with what he has. His creature comforts are exactly that — he’s thrilled with creatures and with soft, sometimes ratty clothing that brings him comfort.

Just this week, Cooper paid his sister a dollar to run upstairs and fetch something for him. He was in the basement, still enjoying a video game I bought for him several years ago for a whopping $20.

“Oh my gosh, he’s so lazy,” she sighed, running to add her dollar to her stash. But he later confided that he could have gotten it himself, he just knew that she was trying to save up for something so he made up a job for her. I observed, watching the incident round back to the technique my mom could not employ with him.

He understands monetary motivation as well as anyone — and he knows just how to escape it.

This story was originally published April 5, 2016 at 5:13 PM with the headline "Monetary lessons come from an unlikely source."