• Share

PRINT

You’ll forgive my puffed-out chest and my 24-hour smile. My wife and I are about to become grandparents for the first time.

Put it this way:

Yipppeeeeeeeeeeeee!

This little boy (yes, it’ll be a boy) will not lack for attention — or for engaged “grands.”

My wife will immediately teach him how to make her signature salad dressing, and how to endure his grandfather’s horrid jokes.

I plan to sit him on my knee at the age of Not Much to read the newspaper — first to him, later (I hope) with him. Basketball and bridge lessons will not be far behind.

However, there’s one area of grandparenthood where my wife and I have come up clueless.

We’d like to set aside some money for Mr. Wonderful. The question is how much, at what time, with what purpose(s) and in what form(s).

Naturally, we have consulted pals about this — especially those who are already grandparents. If you want to split a dinner party in half, this is the subject that will do it.

One pair of friends said we should absolutely NEVER give money to grandchildren. Not only do they never thank you for it, these folks say, but they never spend it wisely.

Another pair of friends, both investment advisers, recommend setting up a tax-advantaged education account for Mr. W.

A third pair says that Grandma and Grandpa should not set aside cash for the child’s future. Our job as grandparents, say these friends, is to spoil the kid as soon and as much as possible.

Therefore, these friends say, we should hoard our dollars until he is a little older. Then, we should bankroll summer vacations, Disney World excursions, and lots of candy and Chipotle whenever the grandchild wants some.

A fourth set of friends says we should let dollar decisions rest with the parents. If they say that their immediate need is a bassinet, buy it for them. If they say that they could really use a car seat, open your wallet.

In other words, don’t think big or long-range. Think now. Think stress-relief and budget-relief for Mom and Dad.

I can see wisdom in any of these approaches. But what if you see wisdom in all of them?

Grandma and Grandpa L. do not have unlimited funds. Far from it. We can’t be Disney providers, as well as college-assurers, as well as car seat-donors. And even if we could, I’m not sure we should do all that, anyway.

Our son and his wife have created this child. Shouldn’t they ford the deepest financial streams on their own, as my wife and I did? Isn’t struggle, in some ways, good?

I suggested to my wife that rather than decide this question ourselves, we should consult the parents-to-be.

Nice try, Grandpa.

Our son and his wife volleyed the decision right back at Grandma and me. Whatever we want to do would be welcome, they said.

They’d never dream of making the decision for us, they said. That would be like ordering up your own birthday gift when you’re eight years old.

Farewell to the element of surprise. The giver should give what the giver wants to give.

Hello, Square One.

For guidance and inspiration, I combed back through the sands of time and tried to remember how my own grandparents handled this.

One grandmother was a master of The Slip. When no one else was around, she would backhand $5 bills to my brother and me. “Don’t tell a soul,” she would whisper.

Of course, The Slip didn’t dent college or graduate school, and it didn’t do Disney, either. The Slip was all about spoiling rather than strategy.

The other grandmother was a Birthday Only donor. Every single year, on the big day, a check would arrive in the mail, usually for a very moderate amount.

That produced two recurring results. One, my mother standing over me, glowering, until I wrote a thank-you note. Two, a trip to the local sporting goods store for a new baseball glove, which I’d lose within a week, thus making Grandma’s gift a very brief moment in time.

My grandfathers? One helped with college — big thanks, old guy. The other was so broke that he couldn’t consider even a Slip.

So, no clear guidance from my own history. Meanwhile, our grandchild arrives in only a handful of weeks.

I have decided to follow the lead of our brilliant political leaders (pause for guffaws, tears, whatever you prefer).

I have decided to plan for the future, and kick the can down the road, at the same time.

I have decided that, every week of the grandchild’s life in which I’m still drawing breath, I will set aside some bucks for him in an interest-bearing account.

Yes, I’ll tie up the gifts with strings. No raiding the dough until he’s 21. Then it’ll be up to him.

Disney and Chipotle might not like this decision. But after weighing all the options, the others seem worse.

As for a certain day in late May, well, it can’t come too soon. I’ve got a spot on my knee and the newspaper, both more than ready.

Bob Levey is a national award-winning columnist.