“Why am I the only 17-year-old in the history of the world who has to work for their own spending money?”
And then Ahuva breaks it with a bang. “EXCUSE me?”
Yerachmiel’s eyes do that thing where it looks like he’s replaced their normal blue with bits of steel. My daughter immediately softens her tone.
“I mean, I’m confused.”
Nice save.
“Why,” she continues, “am I the only 17-year-old in the history of the world who has to work for their own spending money?”
In the history of the world. Wow, that’s extensive. I almost break my silence to snort, but that would not help anyone. I made a decision, and Yerachmiel, smart good man that he is, is backing me one hundred percent. I’m not even sure Ahuva realizes that I’m the one who initiated this, and I’m glad about that. Not in a cowardly way — of course I’m not scared of my 17-year-old — but just in a “Ma and Ta are one team” kind of way.
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