It seems like everywhere we turn, we’re being asked for money. I remember raising funds as a kid for special trips and such, but now it seems that every extracurriculur activity requires fundraising in addition to the often hefty fees we pay to take part, and the tremendous amount of time we expend in volunteering.
Here’s an actual excerpt from one of the pleas we recently received to engage us in the “collection” activities (organization withheld to protect the guilty):
“Use peer pressure, call them out in front of the other parents.”
In case that didn’t resonate, let me state it again:
“USE PEER PRESSURE, CALL THEM OUT IN FRONT OF THE OTHER PARENTS.”
This is perhaps the most explicit statement of what we have discovered is now common practice for much school and local extracurricular fundraising. Is the assumption that people who have the ability to give are just hoarding their money and need this kind of inducement/humiliation to be separated from it? Or is there that much lack of compassion for folks who don’t have the ability to give financially above and beyond what they are already?
WTF? Not to mention, are these the values we want to pass on to our children?
And when I think about cutting her off from chat, we’d miss out on all the great stuff like this (excerpt from chat with Daddy yesterday):
alli: hay daddy, awt side at reesus thar was a sprencoler and giss wat?
alli: i went rit thru it! and i gat all wet and wen i gat inside i was too wet and i had to chang into my eckshtra clos and i had to ohad to had to chang! dosint that sawnd fun goeeng in the sprinkcoler? dosent it? dosint it? dosent it?
How do you know you’ve created a technology monster?
When your 6-year-old daughter, fuming at your insistence on having live conversation instead of google chatting her WHILE YOU ARE IN THE SAME HOUSE sneaks away to your computer every few minutes to fulfill your end of the google chat.
Houston, we’re going to have a problem with this girl…
Happy to report Crazy Tooth #2 made its departure with far less fanfare and misery than its predecessor. It is officially M.I.A. in either Alli’s processed stomach contents or the confines of a mongolian barbecue restaurant.
Happy to share. 🙂
Alli: war do the cows like to go an a date
me: i don’t know, where?
Alli: the mooovees
Alli: war do the horse like to go
me: i don’t know, where?
Alli: the naayvees
me: you are a freak
Alli: no! am i?
Because one is just never enough…
(Thanks to Grandpa Bernstein for the shots during his visit)