I returned from a business trip a week ago. As I was unpacking my suitcase, I pulled out a pair of pants. I had some change in the pockets and it spilled out on to the floor. The signature clink and clank of pocket change hitting a hard surface echoed throughout my house.
Suddenly I was surrounded by little urchins pouncing upon the loose booty as if this bit of pocket change is all that stood between them and death by starvation. Greedy little hands plucked up the pennies, nickels, and dimes. But the quarters, the quarters were worth fighting for. Two of my kids tried to grab the same quarter at the same time and it started a mini-brawl. I pulled them apart only to have the waterworks and desperate cries for justice to ensue.
I sat them down on the couch and said, “What the heck is going on? Why are you scrounging and fighting over change?”
“Dad! We already emptied the couch and the coins in Mom’s car! We need the money!!”
“Why do you need the money?” I asked…
