And other perfectly plausible excuses for not spending in this economy… Frankly, with the amount of times my children ask for something — from $2 gems for Dragonvale to a dress from Justice to a new iPhone, I’m assuming they believe that money either grows on trees or at the very least flows to us on a river of gold.
“Someone cut down our money tree.” This is the line I used to explain why my son would not be getting the new iPhone 5 the moment it hit shelves, like some of his other friends, who shall remain nameless. “That’s right, just yesterday I was fanning myself with fresh dollar bills, off the darn thing and today… gone,” I waxed.
“I remember the old days, circa 2000, when times were good, the tree bloomed so plentifully. I would walk out and stare into the buds, too blurry to tell what they would blossom into, but so excited by the prospects. The beautiful $20’s and even a rogue $100 here or there, opened in glorious subdued hues of matte greens. Benjamins and Jacksons — the good ol’ boys. Recently, the soil has not been as “rich,” if you will, and Washington, old faithful, as I like to call him, has been the only one to flower.
The spots once reserved for George and Abie became clusters of kernels, heavy copper and silver colored nuts, that plunked down on our heads at even the slightest gust of wind. Every once in a while, a seed would hit with concussion causing force… “Damn Susan B.” I’d curse at it, and then plant it, in hopes of growing another tree. Alas, the bush it bore only sprouted subway tokens, which are of no use in the Florida suburbs.
Each Tuesday, I would pluck all the ripe bills from the tree, as Wednesday is the day the lawn people come. Well, need I say more. It’s so hard to find honest help these days.
But today, well today… I don’t need to worry about picking the fruit, because the tree is gone. All that’s left is a hole in the ground and some scattered pennies that even the horticultural filchers found not worth risking back injury for.
“So, no new iPhone 5 for you OR ME, for that matter.”
My son walked away confused and mildly appeased. Next I will explain to my husband why the boot fairy made a recent visit to my closet.
Same thing happened at my house…damn!
I think they’re interconnected, like Aspen trees only I can’t afford to go there and check these days!
Shoot. Same thief has been in my back yard as well. Dratted little bugger, that! <.<
Well, at least I’m no the only one… I like to commiserate… I’m selfish that way.
Mine wasn’t stolen, it was hacked to bits, shot in the face, and stabbed over and over again by student loan and hospital bill collectors. They are not gentle people…
Jessica recently posted, I Should Probably Close The Door While I Pee
No, and they love themselves a ripe tree!
Oh how I wish that money tree would grow around here. I think I cut it down myself. And that new iPhone is calling my name. Damn it. I’ll have to donate more plasma. Seriously.
I’m scared because I think you are being serious!!!
I guess that was the money tree that used to be in my back yard when you were a kid…but I thought that was gone a long time ago. I loved this.
Yeah, yeah, yeah, my mom used to give me the money tree story too. Then I grew up and gave the same story to my daughter. I feel for you, my heart bleeds, money is tight!
But say, can I borrow the boots, I can pay little rent for them.
U deserve the boots way more than any 10 year old
Needs a $500 toy. Even though all of our kids have such expensive items, the fact that they have iPods.,iPads, iPhones is so crazy. To think I didn’t get the barbie dream house.
Love it! I don’t think our money tree ever had a full blossoming season. It was a dwarf plant, and it didn’t get fertilized well. But now…..it’s a stick. ;o)
Ha ha that’s so funny because apparently we have a money tree too and my husband being an accountant often refers to it ironically when I’ve been shopping.
Yes my parents favorite line was always do you think money grows on trees? I guess the apple didn’t fall far… pun always intended!
Pingback: No Title Applies | Butterfly Crossing