My Friends In Advertising Would Be So Proud

On reflection, I see last night's post could be read as referring to a family budget discussion. Ha! That would require such a discussion take place. No, this was about an organizational budget, one that affects people outside of my precious bloodline, people who aren't as lucky as my hellish brood.

Case in point. Tonight it was time to argue about shoes.

My two youngest are both trying out for traveling basketball this year. The middle one played last year and presumably will again. The youngest, it's the first year he's eligible. Notwithstanding the best efforts of my Lovely Bride and I to get him to stick with in-house for another year or two, he won't be swayed.

For those of you who don't know the difference, and there's no reason you should unless you've somehow found yourself parenting a bunch of kids (in which case you have my sympathy), in-house is more casual, one game a week against other teams from our community. Traveling is more competitive, involving tournaments all over the metropolitan area. It's expensive and exhausting. I like watching the games, but at one time in my life I used to like going to concerts and being an adult. So it goes.

Anyway, traveling basketball it is, if they make the teams. Which, in the tiny little brain of my youngest, apparently demands the most expensive shoes.

"I need Wade 2.0s," he told me when I got home from a late meeting tonight. "For basketball. Traveling, you know."

"Those cost $80. Not going to happen."

He threw himself down on the stairs. "Don't you want me to play basketball?"

"Your mother just wrote out a check for registration fees that cost more than my first car."

"You'd just spend it on beer," he said. Smart kid. "Besides, eighty dollars isn't that much," he said. Which tells you something unpleasant about my kids.

"Fine, then you pay for them," I replied. "I just bought you new cleats for fall soccer." A season, I might add, that I once again got talked into coaching. Another two nights a week I won't be going to concerts.

"I don't have enough money," he said.

"No shit," I answered, prompting a glare from my Lovely Bride. "I don't have enough money either."

"What am I supposed to do?" he asked.

"Knit some goddamned shoes, I don't care," I answered.

"Mom," he shrieked. "Dad's being a jerk."

"Alright, alright," I said. "Let's go look and see what's for sale on the internet."

So we did. I saw a few things more in the price range I was thinking, and we'll go shopping in person this weekend. In the meantime I offered to get him some pink Crocs, just to piss him off. It worked. When we go to the stores this weekend, I'll offer him cheap plastic shoes with cartoon characters and he'll demand Wade 2.0s. We'll eventually compromise somewhere in the middle. He may not learn much about basketball or teamwork or sportsmanship, but he'll damned well understand negotiation by the time we're done.