My son — surrounded by Lego and Hot Wheels — would scan the room and announce to anyone nearby:
Not just what he was holding. Everything in the vicinity. The certainty was total.
We carry that instinct into adulthood. Including our bank account.
Which is exactly why I'm mentioning it early.
When you deposit money, that instinct is wrong.
The money stops being yours.
Not safekeeping. Debt.
Your deposit is a number on their ledger. A promise they owe you.
In normal times, the distinction barely matters. The system holds. The promise gets kept. The number on the screen and the money in your hand feel like the same thing.
But we're in a transition.
The map most professionals were never given. Delivered free.