The Case For Intentionally Teaching Our Kids Financial Literacy

Compound Interest, Compound Wisdom

Last night I took my seven-year-old to Target because she had some holiday money that was burning a hole in her pocket.

You know the kind. Money that doesn’t want to “sit in savings.” Money that wants to become a toy immediately… preferably before you even reach the toy aisle.

So we did this slow waltz up and down the rows of toys. She’d spot something, put it in the cart, then look up at me like I was the family CFO.

And she didn’t ask, “How much does it cost?”

She asked, “How much money do I have left?”

Then she would actually think. She’d do the math (mostly), pause, reconsider, and—more than once—take the toy back out of the cart and put it back on the shelf. No meltdown. No drama. Just a tiny person practicing tradeoffs in real time.

My instinct, like most parents, is to speed things up. To push her toward a decision so we can move on with the night.

But something about January slows the pace in a good way. The calendar turns, the air changes, and you get this small window where you can choose presence over efficiency. So I let it take as long as it took. I asked questions. I let her sit with the feeling of wanting something and choosing anyway.

At one point an older couple—probably in their seventies—walked by. I noticed the woman listening. She smiled.

Not because I said anything clever. I didn’t. I think she smiled because she remembered. Because she’d been there. Because she knew that parenting is full of these ordinary moments that are secretly the whole thing.

And money is rarely just money. It’s choices. It’s impulse. It’s patience. It’s freedom. It’s the story we tell ourselves about what we “need,” what we “deserve,” and what would finally make us feel okay.

Which is why one of my priorities for 2026 is teaching my kids financial literacy on purpose. And brushing up on those parts that I may have lost sight of over the course of 2025.

I don’t want them to think money is everything.

But I do want them to recognize—and respect—that money is something.

So I’m building a structured weekly lesson plan for my three kids (7, 12, and 16). And yes, I’m using AI to help me create it: age-appropriate topics, simple exercises, real-life scenarios, and a repeatable rhythm—so it doesn’t turn into random “Dad lectures,” and so I can actually stick with it.

Because financial literacy isn’t just knowledge. It’s behavior. And behavior gets built through repetition.

A big influence on how I’m thinking about all of this is Morgan Housel—especially The Psychology of Money and his newer follow-up, The Art of Spending Money. My brother Rob gave me The Psychology of Money years ago, and finally getting around to reading it last month genuinely changed my perspective. It’s one of those books that makes you realize money is less about spreadsheets and more about human nature.

If you haven’t read it, I can’t recommend it enough.

And if you’ve ever tried to teach kids about money—what worked? What didn’t? Any weekly rhythms, tools, or simple rules of thumb you swear by?

I’m excited to make this a family priority in 2026. It feels like one of those quiet investments that could serve them for the rest of their lives—because someday they’ll be in bigger “Target aisle” moments with higher stakes, more pressure, and more noise.

And I want them to walk through those moments with steadiness.

Not because they memorized a bunch of rules.

But because they know themselves.