I’ve bought wrapping paper, cookie dough and magazines.
I’ve hawked gift cards, cinnamon rolls and candles.
In the name of parenthood, I’ve been to Chicj-Fil-A, Chuch-E-Cheese, bowling and roller skating.
With a string of tickets we’ve been to carnivals, fairs, festivals and food-offerings.
We let our kids beg friends and relatives to sponsor them for various events over the years. In turn, we’ve paid for enough kids to be arrested for solicited.
Three kids. Three different schools. You know how I feel about the PTO.
I’m ready to pay each of my kids a thousand bucks and tell them not to come to me about a single fundraiser all year. If they want to spend $100 on a $2 pen that is their choice. Just don’t tell me about it.
Yet, every week, a child comes to me, bleeding out of her eyes, with a packet showcasing some fantastic prize she can win if she sells 100 things!
We don’t even know 100 people in our city.
I actually do have a plan.
I’m going make a spreadsheet for each child of $200. Over the year they can pick and choose which fundraiser a they’d like to take part in. When they’re $$$ is gone, it’s gone!
Think it’ll work?
Fundraisers make me want to cry.