“But Mama, I can’t afford ice cream,” she said when I questioned her order of a lollipop at the snack shack at the town pool.
Bringing your soggy dollars and loose change to the tiny hut is basically the highlight of childhood summer. On Mondays (when Mom is free with the cash) you can get an ice cream cone. By Thursday, you’re counting quarters for a lemon Italian ice. It’s a beautiful lesson is waiting, in saving, in anticipation, and in freedom. This is the first year I’ve plunked bills and coins into my seven-year-olds sticky fingers and let her go by herself.
But this day had been different. I stopped at Walgreens to get a pair of goggles (we keep losing these things) and on a whim decided to get cash back. Crisp bills. Enough for cheese fries AND ice cream if we wanted. I folded them neatly into our pool bag, and neither of us could contain our excitement on the short drive to the pool.
When the whistles blew as a sign for all the children to get out and allow the adults to bob freely for 15 minutes without risk of Marco Parco crossfire, I saw the flash of independence in her eyes as she asked for money for an ice cream cone. I handed her the 20 and told her I trusted her to walk back the change. She took my twenty in her hand and marched proudly with her friends, goggles on top of their heads. But I chose to follow her just in case she had trouble determining what she wanted.
I stayed a decent distance away, out of her view while I watched her posture change. Her eyes shifted and flashed disappointment. I watched her shoulders fall, and then her attempt to self-regulate as she watched her friends, one by one, walk away with the ice cream cone she had wanted. I saw her hand over the 20, was handed back bills as change, and her tight grip on a lollipop as she turned to make her way back to me across the long stretch of lawn.
I couldn’t help myself. I ran to meet her.
“Why didn’t you get the ice cream cone you wanted, love?” I questioned. Her eyes met mine with confusion.
“But Mama, I can’t afford ice cream,” she said.
She went on the explain that the ice cream price started with a 4 (4.00), and the money she had started with a 2. There wouldn’t be enough.
We sat down at a table. I held her hand as we walked through the value of 20.00. Her eyes grew wide at the realization that not only could she afford an ice cream- but with the bill she had, she could have bought 5.
“For all of my friends?” she asked.
Yes, I smiled. You have enough to get what you really wanted and for all of your friends. We marched back to the window to exchange the lollipop for a chocolate ice cream cone, and I thought about it the whole day.
My little one had more than enough to get what she wanted, but she didn’t understand the value of what she had.
How often do we do that? Undersell or underestimate ourselves? How often do we simply accept something we didn’t want because we didn’t realize we were worth what we really desired?
I often devalue who I am and what I do- but not only does that lead to my own suffering, it means others don’t get the best of me as well. ( You mean, I could have bought ice cream for all of my friends?)
Before you present yourself to the world- as you’re applying for a new job, asking for a raise, increasing your rates, speaking in front of a crowd, gearing up for a performance review or if you’re taking a moment to pivot and determine what you really want in life, love or work- remember the 20, and the ice cream.
You have enough. For you, and all of your friends.