Why You Should Never Study Economics After Having Children

I live a surreal existence, the rope in a constant tug-of-war between extremes:

  • The emotional vs. the logical
  • The concrete vs. the abstract
  • The immediately real vs. the artificial

I am a madwoman, precariously balanced.

Equipped with a dustpan, I attack the reality of a toddler in a grown-up chair with a grown-up fork eating sir-fried rice.

Equipped with vocabulary, I battle constructed policy discourse that attempts to frame everything while being accountable for nothing.

Equipped with a loving heart, I soothe bitten cheeks, frightening falls, noises that are too loud and mornings that are too short.

But when faced with an indifference trade-off between a $12 surplus and four t-shirts for $6 each, or a $12 cheque, no t-shirts and $24 in cash, all I can think of is the poor soul in desperate need of clean laundry.

Clearly, economics professors have not had enough early-morning exposure to spit-up.


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