Kids and Credit Cards: Happy Now, Kathy??
I don't know what it is with kids in our society, the minute they hit their 13th birthday, they develop this strong yearning for an intimate relationship with VISA or Mastercard. Personally, I think some evil entity from a parallel universe broadcasts subliminal messages through rap music, heavy metal, and violent cartoons. But that's just my theory. Take it or leave it.
What chaps my ass is the fact that I've been trying for about a decade know to put some emotional distance between me and my credit cards. I mean, the lust and romance is no longer there and it's just become burdened with unrealistic pressures (they actually want to be paid every thirty days, the demanding little plastic bitches,) and high maintenance (half of my day is spent retracing the strings of retail outlets to find where I abandon the little suckers so no one else uses and abuses them.) Needless to say, it's a love hate relationship I wouldn't wish on my worst enemies, much less my own flesh and blood.
So Erik's been begging on bended knee (adding to the overall diameter of the fraying hole in his jeans) asking me for his own credit card. "I won't use it except for dire emergencies!" he pleads. Unfortunately, it doesn't take long for a new skateboard and a Starbucks latte to take on emergency status because the old skateboard might make him a paraplegic with a monkey feeding him through a straw and the latte will keep him sharp enough to minimize that risk. I counter with "I've always wanted a pet monkey." If the Rolling Eyes Indicator of Enthusiasm is any sign, he was thrilled with my response. Sure they start out using those little plastic demons as a status symbol (bringing to mind that little Pullup's jingle, I'm a big boy now.) but good and superficial intention soon lead way to bankrupt parents who must sell their children into slave labor in order to make the payments on the trailer home. I give him the choice--trailer home, credit card that I won't let him spend. Again, he's thrilled with his newfound freedom of choice. I close with a simple warning to all parents. If you must give your child a credit card, either give him one that debits bucks out of his own savings account, give him one that's expired and thoroughly demagnitized, or move to Florida where the choice in trailer homes is plentiful. Don't forget those cute little plastic flamingos. Don't worry if they're too expensive. You can always charge it so your kids can work off your debt when you die.