When I was six years old, I figured I was old enough to ask for an allowance.
"Mom? Can I have an allowance?"
"No Mike."
"But Mom! I want to buy my own candy bars."
"No Mike."
I begged and pleaded for like an hour. Finally Mom agreed to twenty-five cents a week. That meant that every two weeks, I could buy my own candy bar!
The following week I asked for my allowance. "What allowance?" Mom replied. I broke down in tears. "But Mom, you said I could have twenty-five cents a week." "No I didn't."
She did finally give me just that week's twenty-five cents. After that I gave up on even asking.
I have an older sister. When mom would treat the two of us to a movie, she would give my sister the money for both of our tickets. Mom pointed out that because Jean was older than I, she was more responsible with money.
I was down with that. Jean was three years older than I; the maturity difference between six and nine years old was obvious to me even then.
But when I got to be nine, Mom would still give Jean the money when treating us both to a movie. Even when I was in high school.
The end result of my own mother not trusting me with money, and not wanting to teach me to handle my own money, is that I did not finally figure out how to handle money ON MY OWN until I was a half-million dollars in debt! I am not fucking kidding.
Even the IRS, while the hassled me quite a bit, wrote me off as uncollectable. The California Franchise Tax Board, Maine Revenue Services and Canada Revenue Agency didn't exactly write me off. They just stopped calling.
I expect Citibank would like to know where I am. If they ever find me, I will declare bankrupcy.
But now, I'm a wizard with GNUCash, OpenOffice Calc, Excel and Quattro Pro. I don't have no accountant. I don't need no stinkin' accountant. I know how to read financial books.
However it is quite unlikely that I will ever purchase a home again. If I ever do it will either be because I scored options with a successful startup, or a start a successful business myself.
If you have a child yourself, you could save them - and yourself - a lot of trial and tribulation if you buy them a piggy bank at the very first opportunity. That would be when the could be trusted to handle a penny - yes a one cent piece, or your own national currency equivalent - without sticking it in their mouth and asphyxiating.
Get one of the ceramic piggy banks that does not have a cork stopper, so you have to break it open with a hammer.
When your chillun sees what has become of his financial management upon cracking open his or her piggy bank, raise his allowance to a nickel.
Do this the right way, and they'll put themselves through college, as did a close friend of mine from high school. He was promoted to manager at McDonalds when he was eighteen, and had only just the week before graduated high school.