By a very trusting (and slightly nervous) single mum
They say kids need to learn about money early. I just didn’t think I’d be learning from them.
Last week, I handed over the family budget to my three little CFOs, ages 5, 8, and 11, and gave them full control of what we spent for six days. Groceries, entertainment, even the dreaded petrol station snack run. I figured I’d either uncover a new approach to parenting or find myself living off baked beans and bubblegum.
Spoiler alert: both happened.
Here’s what went down, and what I learnt.
Day 1: Snacks First, Questions Never
We kicked off with groceries. I usually budget $220 for the week, but the kids had... different priorities.
Our trolley by aisle three:
- 4 boxes of Coco Pops
- 3 bags of party mix
- 2 tubs of ice cream
- 1 cucumber (because “we need a vegetable, Mum”)
When I gently reminded them that we’d need things like actual meals, my 5-year-old pointed out, “Ice cream is made of milk. Milk is healthy.” Hard to argue with that logic.
We got a few looks at the checkout. One older lady gave me a knowing nod, equal parts sympathy and “been there.” I felt seen.
Day 2: “Do We Need Power, Mum?”
By Tuesday, my eldest had taken the reins. He reviewed my monthly expenses like a tiny accountant with a vendetta.
“Why do we pay this much for electricity?”
“Do we need two streaming services?”
“Petrol is expensive, can’t you just ride a bike?”
He even suggested we cancel my gym membership: “You already lift heavy things. Like laundry.”
Brutal. But... kind of fair?
At one point, he asked if we really needed fruit. “We’ve got vitamins in the multivitamins, Mum.” Send help.
Day 4: Buyer’s Remorse Hits Fast (and Loudly)
Midweek, they decided we’d order takeaway. Everyone voted for sushi… until it arrived.
Miss 8 took one bite and declared it “weird fish jelly,” then refused to eat anything but soy sauce packets. Mr. 5 cried because the rice was “not like the sticky kind from the servo.”
Total cost: $49
Satisfaction: 1/10
Lesson: Letting small humans make big decisions = unpredictable dining experiences.
At this point, I started googling “how to return food when your kids are the problem.” No luck. But I did bookmark this thing called Ajust, a tool that helps you complain about wrong food orders. Didn’t use it here, obviously. But it’s now on standby.
Day 5: Surprisingly Sensible
By now, they were getting it. Sort of.
When we ran out of bread, I suggested a quick shop. My daughter asked, “Can’t we just have wraps instead? We still have wraps.”
I nearly cried. That’s my girl.
Later that day, she gave me a serious look and said, “I think we need a list before we go to the shops next time.” She even offered to write it. Granted, it was mostly “ice cream” and “dog we can’t afford,” but we’re making progress.
Day 6: The Reckoning
At the end of the week, we added up our spending. We'd gone $63 over budget, mostly on snacks and one regrettable remote-control car that broke in under 10 minutes.
But we’d also skipped a few impulse buys. We meal-planned more thoughtfully (eventually). And the kids genuinely started asking whether something was “worth it.”
My eldest even googled “unit pricing” at one point. Who is this child, and what has he done with my cereal hoarder? Turns out, letting them manage the money wasn’t a total disaster; it was an education. For them and for me.
What I Took Away (Besides a Sugar Hangover)
- Kids understand more than we think, especially when you let them in on the “why” behind decisions.
- Giving them responsibility made them feel grown-up... and showed me how I can loosen the reins (just a little).
- I really need an easier way to deal with refund dramas when things inevitably go wrong.
That last one came up a lot this week: two late deliveries, one missing item, and a very broken toy that cost way more than it should’ve. Instead of going full Karen chasing refunds, I tried the Ajust refund and returns tool that I discovered from Day 4's sushi ordeal. It surprisingly worked, one quick case filed and refund sorted. I didn’t even need to “speak to the manager.”
Now that’s a parenting hack.
Would I do it again?
Absolutely. But next time, I’m hiding the Uber Eats app.
