Our descent down the rabbit hole of in-app purchasing started innocently enough. My youngest child, Luca, asked me to let him spend $1.99 of his pocket-money to buy coins in an iPad game.“It takes forever to get these coins when you’re playing,” he said, showing me the game. “I can spend $1.99 and get 800 coins, but only if I do it now!
It’s 90% off, but the deal only lasts for 58 more minutes! Please, Mom?”“Luca,” I said. “When a game tells you something is 90% off, that’s just marketing designed to make you want to spend money.”“It’s working,” Luca said earnestly. “I do want to spend my money.
And it’s my money.”I sighed.Luca’s request had come a few days after my husband and I opened a debit account for him and his older brother, Max, for their 9th and 11th birthdays, respectively.“We told you your savings was your money,” I said to Luca. “But we also said we weren’t going to let you spend it on just anything, remember?”[Self-Test: Could Your Child Be Showing Signs of Gaming Addiction?]“This is not just anything.
It’s only $1.99 and I’ve been playing this game for weeks and this is the best deal I’ve ever seen. Ever.”“OK,” I finally said. “This is a yes.”I pressed my thumb on the sensor to authorize the purchase and a delighted Luca raced off to show Max, my ADHD-wired firstborn.This, my friends, is when all the trouble really started.Max quickly appeared to demand a similar purchase in a game.