Of course I had a piggybank as a child. I would scrounge or beg for change and feel very adult as I dropped my change into my piggybank. I dreamed of all the things I would be able to buy because I was feeling very rich.
One night, for no good reason that I can recall, I decided that I must get my money. It was very important. I shook and rattled my piggybank and hey! I heard money! I tried for at least an hour to shake it out of the hole in the top which, of course, didn’t work at all. I remembered seeing people on tv breaking their piggybanks when they wanted their money. Which seemed like the next logical step. I looked around, what could I use to break the pig? I needed a stick of some sort, a beating/breaking implement. Of course! I would go to the magic closet and find a wand. Because a wand is just a fancy stick!
After rummaging through the magic closet and choosing my weapon from an assortment of wands, I returned to my room triumphant. I had a big wand, made of sturdy plastic with sparkles and stuff in it. I put the piggybank on the carpet, raised the wand, took aim, and WHACK. I broke the hell out of that piggybank.
Of course this made a huge noise, a shattering ceramic kind of noise which parents hear and decide to investigate. My mother’s head instantly appeared in the doorway of my bedroom.
“What was that?” she asked.
“What? What was what?” I said innocently as I hid the wand behind my back.
Mom looked at me hard and said, “That breaking noise. What was it?”
“Maybe it was Dad. He breaks things a lot.”
She looked down at my busted piggybank and said “Did you break that?”
“Oh no, I walked in and saw that.”
Mom pursed her lips and asked, “What is that? Are you holding a wand behind your back?”
I pulled it around to the front of me and looked at it with great surprise. Surely she would think that an invisible person had placed it into my hand while I was sitting there. “Oh! A wand!”
Mom, who’s a sharp lady and catches on to things pretty quickly, asked “Did you break your piggybank with that wand?”
“Why did you break your piggybank?”
That’s when I broke down, I just couldn’t stand the pressure. “I wanted my money! I need it. And it’s mine!”
“Uh huh,” Mom said. “You know you didn’t have to break it, right? Why didn’t you just unscrew the thing in the bottom?”
I looked at a large chunk of pink ceramic with a plastic screw-thing in it. “Oh,” I said. “I didn’t notice that.”
To her credit, my mother laughed. A lot. “Okay, then. How much money do you have?”
I started counting. “I have 96 cents!” I yelled. “I’m gonna go to the store!”
And, good mommy that she is, she took me to the store and let me buy gum. And didn’t punish me for stealing a wand, breaking my piggybank, and making a mess of broken ceramic on the carpet. Although, she also didn’t buy me a new piggybank either. Ever.