Show us the colour of your money

We’re in the living room after dinner, and I’m helping Son1 with his school project on our community, whilst keeping half an eye on Facebook at the same time.

I notice that someone’s posted something onto the Facebook page for Son 2’s class, about a school trip tomorrow.

“Huh?” I think. It’s the first I’ve heard of it.

“Did you know you’re going on a trip in the morning?” I ask Son2. He gives me a blank look.

So I read the message aloud.

“The class is visiting a mosque tomorrow, and they’re still looking for volunteers. Volunteers should cover legs and arms, and I assume women have to cover their hair as well. Please send in 5 AED with your child so they can buy a piece of fruit afterwards.”

The pat on the back I gave myself for knowing all about Son1’s sports day the next day – including what events they’re participating in and when (egg and spoon; dress up in UAE costume and run around a post and back, etc) – was clearly premature.

“Glad I saw that,” I say, to no-one in particular.

“So, I’ll put 5 AED in your bag,” I tell Son2.

“5 AED or a hundred?” he asks, his face a picture of devout innocence.

Ever feel like they’re just after our money? Gah!

The colour of DH's money: we keep all his foreign notes in a 'bus bank'. He's always trying to pass them off on me!

The colour of DH’s money: we keep all his foreign notes in a piggy bank. He’s always trying to pass them off on me