A free $400 skateboard!

In my house, we have a time-honored tradition. At the beginning of each school year, I write out a check to Mark's school, and inform him that I am now exempt from any and all fundraisers.

If you don't have kids, let me explain. In order to raise sorely-needed funds, schools pimp out their kids to sell crappy stuff you don't need, like expensive wrapping paper or 5-gallon drums of cookie dough. Around Christmas, you can buy cheap trinkets or holiday meals; during all other holidays, you can buy candy; and during the spring, you can buy photos. There are also at least a couple "a-thons" during the year -- a jog-a-thon, a walk-a-thon, even a bunny hop. Those are the ones I can think of offhand.

And it's not just the schools -- if your kid plays sports or belong to Scouts, etc., they get another chance to ply your friends and relatives with unwanted stuff.

From a logical standpoint, I understand this. When the economy suffers, the schools suffer, and in turn, the students suffer. I realize that schools need to make up these funds somehow, but I'd rather opt out of selling and donate directly to the school, so they get 100% of the money, instead of just 10% from the stuff I never really wanted anyway.

But the companies working with the schools are savvy. They throw lavish assemblies for the kids, promising them iPods and video games, anything shiny with batteries that little kids drool over. The kids eat it up. I predict Mark's generation will grow into a pretty convincing sales force (who will be paid in iPods and cell phones instead of cash).

Yesterday Mark brought home a flyer for an upcoming jog-a-thon. He was brimming with excitement.

"Mom!" he shouted, jumping up and down. "If I collect $400 for the jog-a-thon, I can get a cool beach skateboard like Destiny has for FREE!"

"Not for free," I corrected him. "For $400."

"Whatever," he said. "That's what I want."

I reminded him Destiny's skateboard cost $250 (which until then, I'd considered expensive). I also reminded him that the $400 he "collected" would come from friends, family, or whomever else he hit up.

"You really think they want to donate money so you can buy a new skateboard?" I asked.

He nodded, but I could tell he was a bit doubtful. He hadn't thought about it like that.

"Don't you already have a skateboard?" I asked him. "In fact, don't you have two?"

"Yeah, but one needs new trucks, and the other one's too small," he said. "I need a better one."

"Sounds like you need to save your allowance, instead of hitting up your family," I answered.

He didn't like that one bit. He crumpled up the flyer and stomped off. I knew he was thinking evil thoughts and the phrase "meanest mom in the WORLD" flashed through his mind at least once.

It is my fault, though. He just couldn't sell the idea to me, which means he's not getting enough sales experience. Perhaps I really am hampering his growth, and his ability to compete with the highly competitive sales force of 2025.

But I can live with that.