Justin is trying to build a heavy hauler out of K'nex^TM. He's short on purple connectors. He's also missing two big tires. We talk about placing an order for the parts he's been wanting. I say, "Justin, how about if we take the money out of your Kanga and Roo bank and see if you have enough to buy what you want?" Justin readily agrees. We've been talking about the fact that kids sometimes buy things out of their own money.
      I ask him what he needs and we write up the list on an order form. We tally up the order and it comes to $16.60. I can't imagine that Justin has that much change in his bank. I unscrew the bottom and tip it over to find out.
      None of the coins pour out. Something's blocking the hole. I reach up to see what the obstruction is. I pull out three folded up five dollar bills.
      "Wow, Justin!" I say, the surprise in my voice genuine. You've got three five dollar bills! That's fifteen dollars. Where did you get them?"
      "I found them."
      "Where did you find them?"
      "I found them in the alley."
      "Gee, Justin. People don't usually find that much money on the street. Sometimes you find a penny or even a quarter if you're really lucky, but it's rare to find bills like this."
      "Well, I did. I found them."
      "When you find a penny or a nickel, it's okay to keep them, but if you find a lot of money like this, you always try to find out who it belongs to so you can give it back."
      "Well, I guess I was really lucky. It was just laying there on the street."
      "Justin, are you sure? You know sometimes I leave money laying on the table. Or I have it folded up in my wallet. You know, if you find money that belongs to me or Mama Joan around the house, or in our purses, it's still our money. That money isn't yours to take. Are you sure you didn't find that money in the house?"
      "I'm sure, Mama Vicki." He pauses for a minute. His eyes are big and his mouth is slack with concentration. I've never watched him lie before, not like this. He's searching for a more plausible explanation. By watching his eyes, I can register the moment he finds one. "Oh, I remember now, Mama," he says, slapping his knee, as if to say, "What a fool I've been not to remember this before!" He looks me right in the eye and says, "Mary and Lisa gave it to me." Mary and Lisa are his favorite aunties.
      "Mary and Lisa gave you fifteen dollars? Justin, I can imagine that Mary might have bought you a lemonade or a fruit leather or given you a quarter, but fifteen dollars? Do you think I should call Mary up? I'd like to ask her why she gave you so much money."       "No, Mama. I don't think that would be a good idea."
      I don't want to back him in a corner. It's not easy learning about ownership and money in a society that calls out, "Buy me! Buy me!" everywhere you turn.
      My voice softens. "Justin, are you wishing that Mary and Lisa had given you that money? You know, sometimes when kids wish that something was true, they think if they just say it, it will come true. Is that what you're hoping right now?"
      He doesn't respond. I add gently, "Justin, I know this money wasn't in your bank last week. Remember how we took all the coins out of your other banks and put them all in here? There was no paper money in here then."
      He tries a new explanation. "Mama Vicki, I found it a couple of years ago. I just have been moving it to all these different places where you never look."
      "Well, Justin. I'll tell you what I'm going to do. I'm not going to let you keep this money. But you still might have enough, just with your coins. Let's finish counting them."

      Over the last few months, Justin's interest in numbers has exploded. He's mastered counting to a hundred and practices it joyously all the time. He's enthralled with computation, always asking things like, "What's two plus six plus seventy-two plus a million minus four hundred and twelve?" He's also become fascinated with money -- what it's worth, how we spend it, what it can buy. He's trying to figure out this whole big world of exchange and commerce and how he can get a piece of it. I view the heist of the fifteen dollars as an innocent extension of this exploration: "How can I get the things I want in the world? What is this money stuff and how can I get some?"
      I don't want to shame Justin for what he's done. I love his innocence in trying to figure this out. But I do want him to understand some basic rules about ownership and money in our family. So I reiterate the rules about not taking money he finds around the house or in our purses. And then we embark on what's sure to be an ongoing conversation about money and materialism, advertising and wanting things. Justin's a child of this culture and a new phase has begun.