SCENE: Friday morning school commute with the world's most expensive middle schooler and her mother, who is addressing her daughter, and later, talking to herself; a distinction we draw here solely for dramatic context and not because there is any actual difference.
MOTHER: You have got to be kidding. You took four brand-new blank CDs to use as car wheels on a shoebox car for a school assignment?
Do we not have dozens of scratched, abandoned, unused, forgotten and one-use only CDs floating around the house, gathering dust and taking up space under the beds, between the couch cushions and at the bottom of backpacks? Do you have any idea how much those cost?
When you get home from school today, I want you to take a close look at your surroundings. Pull up a couch cushion or two, peek under the furniture. Write down the number of cash piles you come across. Now write down the number of old CDs.
What conclusions can you draw from this exercise?
Speaking of exercises, what kind of eighth grade school assignment requires you to make a shoebox car anyway? What are they even teaching?
BONUS PARENTING PERSPECTIVE: Take a breath. Surrender. You are freaking out over one cubic centimeter of chilled air hanging just over the colder air hovering above the space where the tip of the iceberg begins. Chill-ax.
from the world's most expensive archives: It's not the economy so much as the pull-up bar