When the sustenance and materialism are used for kedushah, they’re kadosh

When it comes to the subject of paying children allowances for doing chores, I’m wishy-washy. On one hand, I feel that every child should be responsible to contribute to the overall maintenance of the house, (especially their own messes, which somehow fall under the category of, “He’s in charge of the dining room table, so I don’t have to take away my pencil case!”).
Still, with some of my children, I’ve seen the value in assigning certain chores and “paying” them with an allowance. I put payment in quotes because I want it to be clear to the child that this is a symbolic payment to teach them financial responsibility, budgeting, and the need to pay for their own mishugasim (i.e., read: what everyone else in the class has).
So although Shloime’s my youngest, he’s not the first of my children to receive an allowance. Shloime loves the trends, whatever’s circulating the playground at recess is an absolute-mandatory-must-have-immediately. So we established his job and budget. Every afternoon, Shloime’s in charge of cleaning up the toys and sweeping the living/dining room floor, and for that he receives a grand sum of one shekel/day (approximately a quarter), five days of the week. (I draw the line at “paying” for Shabbos help.)
During the winter, the rage in cheder is sticker albums (which bear no resemblance to the albums of my day). These albums are mass-produced with the goal of winning a major raffle should one buy and barter and manage to fill all the pages of the album according to number. Some albums have a niflaos haBorei theme, some a pesukim theme. (Here’s the religious aspect so parents can feel there’s something worthwhile.) Stickers are sold in packs of six, two shekel/a pack. The race is on. Shloime waits anxiously for his two-day, two-shekel payment, then runs to the local candy store that sells the stickers. Some stickers are more valuable than others (determined by whom? Who knows!) while others are used as bargaining chips. Personally, I fail to get worked up at a raffle that only a handful of kids from the whole country will win, but youth will be youth.
Last Thursday afternoon, the doorbell rang. Outside was an older man, who stretched out his hand and said he was collecting for his family’s food for Shabbos. I asked to wait a minute, and went for my wallet.
“I’ll give him!” shouted Shloime, surprising me. “I want to give him tzedakah!” He ran to his room and came back holding aloft a shiny five-shekel coin — his entire salary of that week. “Here,” he said to the man, “l’kavod Shabbos kodesh!”
Anyone who says that money can’t buy happiness didn’t see Shloime’s glowing face as he gently closed the door.
(Originally featured in Family First, Issue 931)