Sleep Spending

 It was a pretty straightforward dream:

My son, who loves all things cars, had come into a considerable amount of cash. Apparently he had not only received a solid promotion at work, but he had also been saving money straight along, leaving him with a substantial chunk to spend. Stimulating the economy, and all that. 

His mother and I went with him to the Ferrari showroom where initially he was treated with mild disdain because he did not, in his T-shirt and jeans, look like the person who would normally be browsing the Italian supercar line. 

And yet, there he was, bankroll in hand, ready to throw down hundreds of thousands of dollars on a fine performance machine. His parents stood by in joy and admiration as he talked to the sales representative in ways that showed that he wasn't jut there to spend, he was there to invest. 

Once the deal was made, lattes were sipped, contracts signed and all those bills counted, the shiny gray vehicle was lowered down to the ground floor of the facility where he took ownership. His proud parents waited on the curb to see if they would be offered a ride. 

Eventually, we were. 

I don't remember much about the back seat, but I knew my son was happy. It was only when I woke up that it occurred to me that I probably should have made some dad move like suggesting that he spend far less on a new car of a more sensible variety. He could put the rest of the money away for a rainy day. He could be more responsible. 

Because that's what dads do. And moms. In spite of all the chaos that our family bank accounts have experienced over the years, being adults we somehow feel that we know best. About spending money anyway. 

But maybe not about how to be happy. 

I'm glad that in my dream I managed to be a better parent.