Show Me The Money!

My son, The President is a budding capitalist. He loves him some cold, hard cash. I admire that. Today we had one of those impromptu "teaching moments" as I was preparing to go to the bank to make a deposit. He often takes inventory of his piggy bank, which weighed in around 100 bucks this morning. I explained that if he saved and invested, he would have enough money to buy his own car when the time came; and later he would be able to buy his own home. "Now doesn't that sound better than blowing your money on candy and crappy little toys that will break and be thrown away?"



Twelve years of being married to Dave Ramsey's biggest fan have made their mark on Southern Fried Mom. My Baby's Daddy was loving it, as I explained the merits of saving and investing. ("Do as I say....")



The President was all in the halleleujah chorus, too. He's planning his jet-set life, full of big bucks and a seat on Air Force One. Then he asked, "How much money will I have when I'm 37, mom?"



"Oh, thousands and thousands of dollars..."



"Well, would it be appropriate for me to take a money-bath, then?"



"Absolutely."



Now I know how Donald Trump's mom must've felt.