I wondered what the opposite article would look like.

So I spent an afternoon with a Special Forces veteran, a lawyer, a firefighter, and a bricklayer.

The first thing I asked was what they earned.

The veteran claimed not to know.

The firefighter provided a number, then immediately withdrew it.

The bricklayer gave a range spanning roughly $90,000.

The lawyer asked whether gross or net was being discussed, then launched into a twenty-minute explanation of depreciation.

None of this proved useful.

The second thing I noticed was that every vehicle in the driveway cost more than my first house.

The lawyer's pickup was so new it still smelled expensive.

The firefighter's truck appeared capable of crossing the Yukon.

The veteran's truck looked like it had participated in regime change.

The bricklayer's truck was twelve years old and therefore referred to by the group as "the beater."

I decided to move on to household budgeting.

This went worse.

Moderator: "Do you maintain a budget?"

Lawyer: "Absolutely."

Moderator: "Can I see it?"

Lawyer: "No."

Moderator: "Why not?"

Lawyer: "Because then we'd both discover things."

Eventually, after much negotiation, the group agreed to estimate annual discretionary spending.

The number settled somewhere around $29,000.

Not per month.

Not per quarter.

Per year.

This excluded mortgages and truck payments, which everyone insisted were separate categories and therefore not relevant.

Moderator: "Walk me through that."

Bricklayer: "Food."

Moderator: "How much?"

Bricklayer: "A normal amount."

Moderator: "What's a normal amount?"

Bricklayer: "We eat food."

The firefighter attempted to be more precise.

Firefighter: "Groceries. Utilities. Gasoline. Deer corn."

Moderator: "Deer corn?"

Firefighter: "You don't have deer corn?"

The lawyer had a spreadsheet.

Finally, I thought, some rigor.

The spreadsheet contained five categories.

Food

Gas

Utilities

Truck

Things That Happened

Moderator: "'Things That Happened?'"

Lawyer: "That's our largest category."

Moderator: "What does it include?"

Lawyer: "Whatever happened."

The discussion then turned to children.

Modern parenting literature tends to emphasize enrichment. Competitive activities. Structured development. Leadership opportunities. Carefully managed childhood experiences designed to maximize future outcomes.

I asked what activities their children participated in.

The room became quiet.

Bricklayer: "Outside."

Moderator: "Outside doing what?"

Bricklayer: "Kid stuff."

Moderator: "Such as?"

Bricklayer: "I don't know. Outside."

The firefighter nodded.

Firefighter: "Mine built a ramp for their bicycles."

Moderator: "What kind of ramp?"

Firefighter: "A dangerous one."

Moderator: "Did you stop them?"

Firefighter: "No."

Moderator: "Why not?"

Firefighter: "Then they built a better one."

The veteran seemed confused by the question itself.

Veteran: "Why does everything have to be organized?"

Moderator: "Because that's how children develop skills."

Veteran: "Children develop skills by being children."

Moderator: "What about enrichment?"

Veteran: "They enriched themselves with a creek."

The lawyer entered the discussion.

Lawyer: "You know what's interesting about these articles? Every year childhood becomes more expensive. Every year the list of required activities grows. Every year somebody discovers another thing parents must pay for."

Moderator: "You're against activities?"

Lawyer: "No. I'm against the idea that childhood is a consulting project."

The bricklayer nodded.

Bricklayer: "When I was young, if my father thought I was bored, he'd tell me to go outside."

Moderator: "That's it?"

Bricklayer: "That was the entire strategy."

Moderator: "And it worked?"

Bricklayer: "I'm sitting here, aren't I?"

As the afternoon continued, a strange pattern emerged.

None of these men appeared particularly interested in optimization.

None discussed maximizing outcomes.

None used the phrase "intentional parenting."

None seemed especially worried about whether their children were accumulating sufficient résumé material for a hypothetical college admissions officer fourteen years in the future.

The veteran finally offered a theory.

Veteran: "I think a lot of modern parenting is driven by fear."

Moderator: "Fear of what?"

Veteran: "Everything."

The room laughed.

Veteran: "Seriously. Fear they'll fall behind. Fear they'll miss an opportunity. Fear they'll fail to reach their potential."

Moderator: "Those seem like reasonable concerns."

Veteran: "Maybe. But eventually somebody has to climb a tree."

The interview ended as the children themselves became visible in the distance.

One was riding a bicycle.

One appeared to be carrying a stick for reasons unknown.

Two others were engaged in an activity that looked dangerous enough to be educational.

Nobody intervened.

The fathers watched for a moment.

Then they went back to discussing truck payments, tax notices, and whether a boat technically counts as a financial asset.

I never did determine exactly how much money any of them made.

I'm not entirely convinced they know either.

(http://www.autoadmit.com/thread.php?thread_id=5870360&forum_id=2ГѓЖ’#49909514)

I really, really loath it.

(http://www.autoadmit.com/thread.php?thread_id=5870360&forum_id=2ГѓЖ’#49909854)