My 5-year-old son bounded into the kitchen this afternoon a few minutes after I got home, clutching his heavy piggy bank to his chest. It’s not actually a piggy bank. It’s really a giant peanut butter jar with a slot cut in the bright red lid, but it does it’s job well. He hoisted the container up onto the counter where I was unloading everyone’s lunch bags and asked, “Can you tell if I have enough money for a car by how much it weighs?”
“Huh?” I asked, cocking my head to the side and giving him a puzzled look.
“I’m saving up enough money to buy a car. Do you think I have enough?”
“Oh, really?” I picked up the piggy bank, pretending to consider it’s weight as I looked inside. “Well, cars are really expensive, so you don’t have enough yet. But the good thing is that you have 11 years to keep saving because you can’t drive until you’re 16.”
His eyes widened and mouth dropped open in disbelief before quickly changing to a look of disappointment. “Sixteen?!?!” he cried. “I thought you could drive when you’re seven!”
I laughed out loud at the image in my head of seven-year-olds driving cars and second-graders taking driver’s ed class. Just imagine!