Can we count my money?

A week-long hyperfocus on coins, banks, and joy.

My son every so often will latch onto something and become extremely obsessed by this thing. It could be an event, a person or an activity and it will consume him…….and us. This consumption can go on for a couple of days. He will talk about it, think about it and obsess over it. It will be the first thing he mentions in the morning and the last thing he mentions before sleep. I now know that this is a hyperfocus. Hyperfocus is an intense form of mental concentration or visualization that focuses consciousness on a subject, topic, or task. And the other week we had a hyperfocus that was very educational. Out of the blue he announced he wanted to count his money from his money box. And so we did. We emptied his coke bottle money box and counted all the coins methodically. The 1ps, 2ps, then 5ps. The 10ps, 20ps and 50ps. The pounds and two pounds. And then the notes. We stacked them up and he absolutely loved it.

We then got a bit of paper out and wrote down each pile of coins and how much we had in total for each coin. Then added them up to get a proper total. He loved it. And I loved it because it was taking up time in the house doing something we were both into. My husband was in the house also and he offered to exchange coins for notes but my son didn’t want this — he wanted more coins. He wanted to exchange notes for coins, and so my husband started “The Exchange Shop” where my son could change coins for notes, notes for coins and even euros for English money – yes, we did find euros amongst his other coins. And this was the start of something big.

Over the course of the week he asked again and again…

“Can we count my money?”

And over and over we counted the money. I think on one day we had 6 counts. 6 counts!!! Doesn’t sound that bad does it but it was a lot. And he asked…

“Is the exchange shop open?”

And my husband would exchange more coins/notes for notes/coins. I actually think my son exchanged a five pound note for five pound coins and then the next day exchanged it back. But he was just happy talking about the money and counting it.

This then progressed to him asking about whether he had a bank account – he did. I had a savings account for him since he was born and I paid money into it every month. So I found the book — yes, it was a building society book that had the transactions listed in it row by row – fairly old school. And I honestly don’t think I’ve ever seen anything bring someone so much joy. We spent hours looking at the book, going over each row transaction by transaction. Explaining what S/O stood for – standing order from my bank to his bank. Then we got to INT – this stood for interest and I explained that interest was the bank paying you for keeping money in their bank. This absolutely blew him away.

In the first year he received £5 interest, second year was £20, third year was £40 and so on and so on. He could not believe it. And after going through those figures once he then knew them off by heart. For days afterward he carried that book everywhere with him. He put it on the floor next to his bed when he went to sleep and each morning the first thing he would ask is…

“Can we look through my bank book?”

And so we did. Again. Each transaction row by row. And all throughout he would say…

“This is so interesting isn’t it”

I’m not sure if he was making a pun about the interest but it made me laugh.

As the days went on he asked if he could pay some money into his bank from his money box. This was a really tough decision for him because he wanted more in his bank but he also wanted to fill his whole money box. After much deliberating he finally decided to pay a £20 note into his bank. By the time he decided the bank was actually closed so he asked if we could go first thing.

The very next morning he woke up and got dressed straight away and paced around the house waiting for 9am when the bank opened and as soon as it was 9am we went to the bank and paid his money in. He was over the moon. So much so he asked to go to all his grandparents’ houses and show them. So we did.

We went to his Grandma’s and then his Grandad’s and he ended up with another ten pounds to pay in from those visits. He wanted to go to his bank and pay it in immediately, but I managed to persuade him to save it for the next day. It would give us a job to do then. When we got home he showed my husband his book again. He was £20 off a nice round number and he had ten pounds to pay in so I offered to give him another ten so it would take his total in his bank to a nice round figure for him. My OCD would have loved that but he looked at me and said no. For whatever reason it didn’t feel right to him so he politely declined and continued to look at his book. And this went on for days and days and days. It only ended when he went to his dad’s house but I am sure when he returns so will the counting of the money.

In the end, I realised the money wasn’t the obsession — it was the counting. Because even after all those bank trips and exchanges, he’d still look up at me with a grin and say…

“Can we count my money?”

And it made him so happy. Which in turn made me happy. But honestly, at this point, I’m considering charging him interest.