A lesson on savings, and tractors

We Live in a town where we see at least a dozen different tractors chugging down Main Street in the Christmas parade. I grew up in a city that has been dubbed the most populous city in all of Ohio, and is ten minutes from downtown Cleveland. Needless to say, I haven't experienced a lot of tractors or farm equipment in my time. 

When I was a working woman, not to say what I do now is not work, but you know what I mean when I actually had business cards, my big girl job. Anyway. I used to make the ninety minute commute to Columbus through some well, you could say scenic roads. To pass the time, I observed the world of farming unfold: the same old dairy cow out to pasture every morning just as the sun was rising, cattle rumps side-by-side along the trough, the seemingly stray chickens that loitered dangerously close to the road and my favorite -- the changing fields as the seasons played out, barren brown transformed to lush green followed by rows of gold-waving, as I sleepily went to or fro my big girl job. My colleagues that I carpooled with on occasion we're even considerate enough to let the city girl in on what a combine harvester was. Those things are massive!

 

Which brings me to the tractor that is for sale just down the road from our home and has caught the eye of my five year old son.  "How much do you think that tractor costs, Mummy?" "I'd really like to buy that," says an intrigued Anderson.  I respond:  "I'm not sure, maybe you could pay for it with the savings in your piggy bank. Silence from the back of the minivan. Obviously, my jesting wasn't detected. So, I ask, "What would you use it for?" Promptly and matter of fact, "No. Daddy has a bigger piggy bank than I do. So he should buy it. We can paint it red and blue and use it to cut grass."