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| "Oh, don't worry. I'll buy your weird assortment of Shopkins and Beanie Boos." |
Me: Whatever. I can do whatever I want.
Husband: Oh yeah? ... then stay up past midnight.
Me: No, I said I can do whatever I want. Not whatever you want.
Husband: Dang it. I had a whole list ready just in case.
Earlier today, the kids and I were at Michael's getting ... into trouble, to be frank. Kiddo #1 decided she wanted to spend some of her allowance. So, after my transaction was done, Kiddo #1 had her stuff rung up and began using her debit card.
Only it said her pin number was wrong. Several times, and then it locked her out; luckily I was there to still buy her shit.
When we got back to the car, I had her call the number on the back of her card. I figured this was as good a time as any to teach her what to do when something weird happens to her card.
First off, let me say, that there are way too many numbers anyone should have to type when calling about a broken bank card. By the time you type in your card number, your pin number, your birthday, the day you broke your arm the first time, and the day you will get married divided by 7, any adult is ragey.
Kiddo #1, who is often patient, was pushed to the limit a few times; but she didn't scream or get angry, she just sighed, hung up, and started again.
When we finally got through to a real person (haha, Kiddo #1 thought the recorded voices were real people, which reminded me that she's a kid still, no matter how often I forget it) she then had to answer all sorts of questions to verify it was, in fact, Kiddo #1 on the phone.
As if sounding 8 wasn't enough proof. We had to talk about her latest transactions, what services she has at the bank, and I mostly had to translate what the questions were into kid-speak so she could answer them.
And when it came down to it, and the phone person couldn't reset the password (we had to go to the branch), Kiddo #1 was so cool. She didn't get frustrated about all the work she'd done just to get no-where. She didn't freak out or yell or anything that an 8-year old might do. She just looked at me and said "We need to go to the branch to fix it."
It was just so cool to see her grow up in front of me.
Luckily, before I could breakdown in sobs of "my baby is growing up," Kiddo #2 reminded me that he had to PEE SO BAD. So I took him inside to pee, got the kids a cookie, me a coffee, and drove to the branch.
When we got there, there was literally no other client waiting. It was kinda like TV. Kiddo #1 strolled confidently to the open window and I walked up beside her. (Kiddo #2 waited by the water cooler, probably drinking gallons of freezing cold water because by the time we got home he had to pee AGAIN)
Bank Friend: Hello, how can I help you today?
Kiddo #1: Um?
Me: Why did we come here?
Kiddo #1: Oh yes. Uh, my bank card.
BF: Oh. Is everything ok?
Kiddo #1: Yes. Well, I wanted to use it but it won't work.
Me: What part won't work?
Kiddo #1: The PIN isn't working.
BF: Oh dear. Can I have your card?
Kiddo #1: Yes.
BF: Ok. So can you put your PIN in there?
Kiddo #1: Um? It doesn't work.
BF: Yes. Let's reset your password then.
I stood there watching my 8-year old (baby) managing her bank account problem with grace.
I stood there watching my 8-year old (baby) speak clearly and ask for what she needs.
I stood there watching my 8-year old (baby) return her bank card to her wallet.
I watched my baby (8-year old) have polite conversation about what she's doing this weekend.
I watched my baby (8-year old) thank the bank friend for her help and walk toward the car.
I half expected her to get in and drive off to university.
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