Money, Money, Money

The other day I was driving the M5 and stopped at the tollbooth to pay the toll (I’d feel a lot better about paying the toll if the collector wore a stocking over his head and pointed at gun at me while taking my money… but that’s beside the point).

Now, paying the toll is not new to my children and as we pulled away from the booth, (surprisingly) the following conversation ensued…

Bonnie: Who was that?
Me: I don’t know. The tollman. I have to pay him to use the road.
Clyde: He’s not the tollman, he’s the money man, he gives you money!
Me: Darling, I wish that were true.

Later the same day, I had to pay for parking at the airport. With ticket in hand I approached the pay machine, slid my ticket into the slot and was charged $19.00. I paid the said amount and starting walking away from the machine. I realised I had one missing child and turned to see Clyde still standing at the machine. I asked… “What are you waiting for? to which he responded, “I’m waiting for the machine to give you some money.”

Apparently he thinks everyone I meet just hands out cash willy-nilly to me. My poor boy has a lot to learn!