Kiddos, Candy and Credit Cards
I was just waiting for it to happen. It was only a matter of time. My son, like most kids his age, was becoming increasingly adept in a “techie” sort of way. For example, I overheard him one day talking on the phone to his grandparents. I figured he had snagged my cell phone, yet AGAIN, despite my clear “hands off” policy after he managed to enter my passcode enough times to lock me out of the lifeline that is my smart phone. But when I approached him, he had his Ipod and had downloaded the Textfree service and was dialing up to his heart’s delight.
Like any normal eight-year-old child, he loves candy. And like any eight-year-old boy who has access to the internet, he loves EvanTube. And whatever EvanTube recommends, whether it be toys, games or candy, my boy wants it. So much for the educational downloads on his ipod, my son has been suckered into blatant child-targeted advertising.
The item of choice (and obsession) as of late is a ginormous gummy worm. Apparently it is 128 times the size of the usual ones you can find in the candy aisle and packs a whopping 4,000 calories of pure hedonism into its bi-colored, scarily textured, sugary body. It is a flat-out disgusting creation and right up the alley of a boy’s desire and psyche. My son watches the promo on Evantube for this mass of gelatinous nematode over and over, lusting over every inch of high fructose goodness like Ralphie and his desire for a Red Ryder BB Gun. I am ashamed I let him watch this crap but for some odd reason I simply limit it and then insist he go outside and ride his bike. It’s harmless, right,? I tell myself. He is supervised and limited in his internet access and at least he doesn’t want a gun…right?
Wrong. Oh, so very wrong. The obsession reaches a new high. He starts to salivate over supersized gummy soda bottles and bears. Then he tells me he is going to buy them all. I have heard him say so before but the last time he declared his intentions…he was not only serious, but also had a plan.
One Sunday am he tells me he is going to guard my purse (!) while he oogles his sugary wish list. Ok. Goofy kid. I don’t worry about this newest quirk as he has them all the time…once he named a trio of stuffed animals Kerosene, Governor and Vagina. Later on in the day, he is telling me his giant gummy worm can be rushed overnight delivery. Then he tells me the big gummy bear will be available for shipping later in the week and at that time will be delivered overnight. Still, I don’t worry…he loves funny details of all kinds: he can remember the house numbers of most homes we considered buying when we moved crosscountry 10 months ago. No biggy, right? RIGHT????
Mom, WAKE UP and smell the sugar scorching!!!!! How utterly stupid am I???? I go to check email that fateful afternoon and find not one, but ELEVEN order confirmations through the website from hell selling candy the size of the Staypuff Marshmallow man AND a bill twice that size. “My bad” doesn’t begin to say it. I was completely duped and I ignored all the warning signs that fell right into my lap.
Fortunately he didn’t cover his tracks very well. I found a piece of notebook paper with our credit card number written on it in, you guessed it, my kiddo’s script. When I casually ask him if he used my credit card to buy candy, he flushed, looked away, and squeaked, “No. Did you ask my brother and sister?”
Well that clears that up.
He honestly didn’t know what he did. A credit card doesn’t APPEAR to be money, like the allowance we give him weekly. To him, it is simply a set of numbers that magically break some mysterious code that allows the UPS guy to gift us with the objects of our desire. Nothing more.
We sat our son down and my husband explained what a credit card is, its purpose, that irresponsible use by anyone (including adults) can mean inability to afford necessities, and that it is not something for children to use. We were not angry with him, we explained, but needed him to understand this was a serious infraction that should never happen again.
I cancelled the card, just in case my number-crunching son with the battery of addresses in his brain could remember this number as well. The helpful credit card representative on the other end asked (ends up there were 17 total “fraudulent” transactions made) if I had contacted the police. No, I said politely, I had not, as my eight-year-old had gone on the shopping spree. She was blown away. “My son is nine, and I worry all the time about being in your situation.” Oh, yes. My guess is she went home and hid her own wallet, like I did.
And has the Mommy Police amped up her surveillance? You bet. Crime doesn’t pay, and now neither does quirky behavior involving money or various vehicles thereof. I’m arming myself with a twenty-pound twinkie (I wish) and I’m not afraid to use it. (Oh, and I confiscated the Ipod…and his siblings Ipods, too. The massive gummy worm is calling them as well.)
