Our neighbour had an extension built and our daughter, then aged four, was fascinated. From her window she watched the builders digging trenches and pouring concrete. Eventually she asked if she could go and watch from up close. I thought there'll be no harm in it. She gathered up her little bucket and spade to help with the construction.
The builders took little time warming to her. The contractor, ever aware of public liability issues, fashioned a hard hat from an ice cream container and a plastic strap, the painter coloured it fluoro pink, the carpenter made her fetch nails, the brickie showed her how to add water to the stuff in the cement mixer, and in that vein she was fully occupied for the rest of the week. On Friday afternoon everybody chipped in a dollar or two, folded some paper to make it look like a pay packet and gave it to her.
I thought, this is a good opportunity to encourage frugality. I suggested we go to the bank with her first ever wages and open an account just for her. She thought that was a good idea. Once she had enough money, she'd be able to buy her pony, but first she wanted to spend a little of her hard earnt cash on a few lollies.
The bank, when we finally got to it, was very busy. By the time we advanced to the head of the queue, dozens more customers were waiting behind us. The teller looked at me. I pointed down at my princess, who was clutching her pay envelope with sticky fingers, but the teller could not see her. So I lifted her up on to the counter. "Oh! What have we here?" he asked. "My wages," she told him. "I'm a builder." "Oh, have you been building something?" he continued. "Yes. I'm building my neighbour's entertainment area," she announced proudly, "but it's not finished yet." "So, you'll earn more money next week?" The teller was getting into the swing of it. "Sure," said my darling, and then raised her voice: "but only if the cunts from Dunstone's deliver the fucking bricks on time."