Mini Shopaholic

Shut up, I type. We’ll say two pounds a week shall we?

R u mad? comes zipping back. 10p a week is plenty.

I stare at the phone indignantly. 10p? He’s such an old skinflint. What’s she supposed to buy with that?

And we’ll never afford the pony on 10p a week.

50p a week, I type firmly, is national average. (He’ll never check.) Where r u anyway? Nearly time for Father Christmas!!

OK, whatever. I’ll be there, comes the reply.

Result! As I put away my phone, I’m doing a quick mental calculation. 50p a week for two years makes £52. Easily enough. God, why on earth have I never thought of pocket money before? It’s perfect! It’s going to add a whole new dimension to our shopping trips.

I turn to Minnie, feeling rather proud of myself.

‘Now listen, darling,’ I announce. ‘I’m not going to buy this pony for you, because I’ve already said no. But as a special treat, you can buy it for yourself out of your own pocket money. Isn’t that exciting?’

Minnie eyes me uncertainly. I’ll take that as a yes.

‘As you’ve never spent any of your pocket money, you’ve got two years’ worth, which is plenty. You see how great saving is?’ I add brightly. ‘You see how fun it is?’

As we walk to the check-out I feel totally smug. Talk about responsible parenting. I’m introducing my child to the principles of financial planning at an early age. I could be a guru on TV myself! Super Becky’s Guide to Fiscally Responsible Parenting. I could wear different boots in each episode—

‘Wagon.’

I’m jolted out of my daydream to see that Minnie has dropped the pony and is now clutching a pink plastic monstrosity. Where did she get that? It’s Winnie’s Wagon, from that cartoon show.

‘Wagon?’ She raises her eyes hopefully.

What?

‘We’re not getting the wagon, darling,’ I say patiently. ‘You wanted the pony. The lovely pony, remember?’

Minnie surveys the pony with total indifference. ‘Wagon.’

‘Pony!’ I grab the pony off the floor.

This is so frustrating. How can she be so fickle? She definitely gets that trait from Mum.

‘Wagon!’

‘Pony!’ I cry, more loudly than I meant to, and brandish the pony at her. ‘I want the poneee—’

Suddenly I get a prickly-neck feeling. I look round to see the woman with toddler boys, standing a few yards away, staring at me with her pebble-like eyes.

‘I mean …’ I hastily lower the pony, my cheeks burning. ‘Yes, you may buy the pony out of your pocket money. Basic financial planning,’ I add briskly to the pebble-eyed woman. ‘What we learned today is that you have to save up before you can buy things, didn’t we, darling? Minnie’s spent all her pocket money on the pony, and it was a very good choice …’

‘I’ve found the other pony!’ The assistant suddenly appears again, breathless and carrying a dusty box. ‘I knew we had one left in the stock room. They were originally a pair, you see …’

There’s another pony?

I can’t help gasping as she draws it out. It’s midnight blue with a raven mane, speckled with stars, and with golden wheels. It’s absolutely stunning. It complements the other one perfectly. Oh God, we have to have them both. We have to.

Rather annoyingly, the pebble-eyed woman is still standing there with her buggy, watching us.

‘Shame you’ve spent all your pocket money, isn’t it?’ she says to Minnie with one of those tight, unfriendly smiles which proves she never has any fun or sex. You can always tell that about people, I find.

‘Yes, isn’t it?’ I say politely. ‘That’s a problem. So we’ll just have to think of a solution.’ I think hard for a moment, then turn to Minnie.

‘Darling, here’s your second important lesson in financial planning. Sometimes, when we see an amazing, one-off bargain, we can make an exception to the saving-up rule. It’s called “Seizing the Opportunity”.’

‘You’re just going to buy it?’ says the woman in tones of disbelief.

What business is it of hers? God, I hate other mothers. They always have to butt in. The minute you have a child it’s as if you’ve turned into a box on an internet site, saying ‘Please add all your rude and offensive comments here.’

‘Of course I’m not going to buy it,’ I say, a little stonily. ‘She’ll have to get it out of her own pocket money. Darling,’ I crouch down to get Minnie’s attention, ‘if you pay for the other pony out of your pocket money at 50p a week, it’ll take about … sixty weeks. You’ll have to have an advance. Like an “overdraft”.’ I enunciate clearly. ‘So you’ll basically have spent all your pocket money till you’re three and a half. All right?’