Can't Make Money Without A Case

Having a son with interests and abilities beyond his years has always provided a source of great amusement in my home.  Despite wisdom to the contrary, my husband and I have often mused about our younger daughter's interests and abilities while comparing her progress to that of her brother at the same age.  I am aware that we have broken many parenting rules by doing so, however since we only have our son to use as a point of reference, we have found the comparisons to be unavoidable.   

While my son has enjoyed an almost obsessive passion for science from a very early age, my daughter has a more age-appropriate interest in the subject.  So, in the wake of her fourth birthday, we were delighted and intrigued by her request for a "real" guitar.  The request for something musical did not surprise us very much, since she seems unable to be in the general vicinity of a tempo without shaking her little booty, waving her hands in the air and bobbing her head to the beat.  She also sings constantly, and regularly turns everyday objects into instruments.  But a guitar is such a specific request!  Clearly, it was calling out to her.  The girl needed a guitar.   

My fabulous mother-in-law took on the project of locating a beautiful guitar for my daughter, and packaged it up to arrive just prior to her birthday.  When the big day arrived, I proudly presented the large, polygon-of-a-box to the birthday girl.  She tore the wrapping paper off with enthusiasm, and squealed with delight when the guitar was revealed.  She danced around the room, strumming and hopping and dancing away.  I beamed at her and marveled at her joy, and basked in the promise of her apparent love of the instrument.  I tried not to think about how difficult it is to earn a living as a musician, and took hopeful comfort that her scientist brother will likely be able to support her.

Suddenly, she stopped.  She looked around on the ground, inside the box, and behind the couch.  "Where is the case?" she asked.

I gently pressed her to ask her question again.

"The case, where is the case for the guitar?" she demanded, clearly launching into a panic.

Feeling the buzz of her previous joy wearing off, I explained to her that the gift did not come with a case, but that she did have the nice polygon-of-a-box to store her guitar in.   

"What!" she exclaimed, as she flopped herself down on the floor in disappointment.  "I can't believe there is no case.  This is terrible, just terrible!" she proclaimed with all the drama she could muster.

I again tried to appease her, by explaining that the case was not important, that the guitar was beautiful and that she would enjoy playing it for a long, long time.

"Mum, without the case, the guitar is useless.  How am I supposed to make any money without the case?" she asked me, clearly irritated at my inability to see such an obvious problem.

But I didn't understand.  I was confused, and I must have looked that way, because moments later, I received astute clarification.   

"Mum, when I have gone into Boston on the train with Grandpa, everyone plays their guitars with the case on the ground.  People throw MONEY into the CASE!  If I have no CASE, I will not make any MONEY, and that was the whole reason I wanted the GUITAR in the first place!" she declared, as if it were the most reasonable of explanations and as if I were the most stupid woman in the world.

As I broke into a laugh and collected my disgruntled daughter in my arms, I could not help but feel proud of my little budding entrepreneur.  With her attitude and a bit of luck it will be kindergarten and then business school for her, and early retirement for me!