We took a mini-vacation this past weekend because Matt has about two weeks off of school in between semesters. I found a great hotel deal online, which simply required us to participate in a 90-minute time-share sales pitch,* and came with free food vouchers and everything. So we packed up the kids, a few bags of clothes, and a variety of road trip entertainment items (read: DVD player, Leapster, junk food, and a pile of library books). Before we left to come home this morning, I made the mistake of looking at some Webkins at a store. This, to Grant and Clark, was a bona-fide contractual offer that a Webkinz purchase was in our near future. Grant could not understand why the purchase was not made, and spent most of the trip home speculating about when we would go to a local store and pick up the Webkinz that I had cruelly and carelessly forgotten to purchase this morning. I told him we’d take a look at the bank account when we got home and see about the possibility.
He immediately corralled me to the office upon arriving home. I had transferred a vacation budget into my checking account right before we left town. I didn’t do a great job of keeping track of spending, so I cringed a little when I looked it up.
“Uh oh, Grant, we have a problem.”
“Well, it says here that my bank account has -$18.73.”
“Is that enough for a Webkinz?”“Um, no. It means I have $18.00 below zero.“(Long pause.)“Don’t worry, mom. I know where we have thousands and thousands of dollars.”
*Those people who do time-share pitches are tricky, tricky, tricky. If Matt had his way, we would now be the proud owners of 40-years-worth of tropical vacations and an Alaskan helicopter skiing package. Since I am only slightly more disciplined, and withstood their amazing deals and plummeting prices, for four– yes, FOUR– hours, we are instead only the proud owners of a pre-purchased vacation to Disney World that we had already planned on making when Matt graduates in the spring. Call me a sucker if you will.