I took youngest son shoe shopping after he blew a sole out of the pair I bought at the start of school. He had been flapping around on them for a week or more before I noticed.
This is the same kid that carried a duct-taped binder for all of eighth grade, despite the fact that we had spares in the closet.
“Why didn’t you tell me that your shoe was broken?” I asked.
“I just got them, I didn’t want you to have to get me another pair.”
SIGH. I talk to the kids about money all the time. I point out the choices that we make–music lessons vs. eating out or Abercrombie. I tell them that we are not poor, we are middle class. Being poor, means not having choices.
Clearly, it was time for another money lesson.
“Honey, we have money for new shoes.”
“I know. I thought the broken ones were kinda cool.”
Oh. That is altogether different.