My kid rips open her first-ever paycheck and her jaw drops.
“Where’s my money?” she demands.
Apparently, she was expecting more. Her and me both. That’s the thing about R-Js. The real jobs deduct real taxes, something babysitting, mowing lawns, dog walking, tutoring, and the wrath of other teen beats fail to do. Her iTune purchasing power greatly diminished, and she has yet to realize the reality of mortgage payments, cell phones, insurance, utilities, oil, cable, food, orthodontics, medical, pay-to-play fees, and ah, yes, cleats.
My mom graciously reminded me that when I ventured out into the real world with a real job, I opened my first paycheck and demanded to know who FICA was and why they were taking my money. At the dawn of someday soon retrieving that money (fingers crossed there’s some left for me), I watch as my oldest struggles with the reality of real jobs.
So we had a conversation about being part of the larger community. Where her taxes hopefully go: education, roads, social security, infrastructure, and so on. (We didn’t touch on the bail-out…) She seemed a little proud to be part of the big picture, but still pissed off that her check had shrunk. Ahhhh, growing pains.
When she was in 3rd grade, she wanted to go live in a tree. I think she may be reconsidering.