There’s a button on the right handle of your jetpack that says “Juice It!” You hit the button and fly upward… for a second, until the “Low Kerosene” light flashes. Apparently they didn’t put a full tank into this thing. Whatta rip!

You slowly sink towards the ground, leveling off at 6 feet in the air. On a journey around the house, you see your teen daughter through the kitchen window. She rubs her forehead while looking at a calculator and stacks of papers in front of her.

You tap on the glass. She slowly gets up and opens the window.

“Are you mad at me for spending your college tuition on a jetpack?” you ask, meekly.

“Mad? Am I MAD AT YOU for spending money saved for MY FUTURE on an expensive TOY for YOURSELF?” she states, brow furrowed. “Of course not! We already discussed this. I’m a multi-millionaire business woman with an Instagram makeup empire. Consider that jetpack my gift to you. Hey, when you’re done, could you help me with this tricky Sudoku puzzle I’m crunching the numbers on?”

You nod and blow a kiss at your daughter, then zoom around the house a few more times. You may not be flying high yet, but your daughter’s success makes your heart soar.


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