My older son did a sweet thing today. Little Boy and I were running around the block this morning (or more accurately, taking a walk break during our run around the block) when I saw a penny on the pavement.
“Look, a penny!” I said. “Pick it up, it’s good luck.”
Little Boy, currently a few months away from turning four, has a piggy bank made from an old Gatorade tub. We’ve talked about how money can be saved and used to pay for things that he wants, and he seems to have an age-appropriate grasp of how that works. I thought he might like the penny and he did pick it up, but a few steps later, he became concerned.
“I don’t want this money. I can’t put this money in my piggy bank.”
“Why?” I asked.
“It’s not my money. It’s somebody else’s money.” And he set the penny down on the sidewalk for the original owner to find.
Can’t really argue with that.