Studies in Tax Law

We had an interesting lesson in tax code this evening.  L and N talked Mommy into allowing a pre-dinner snack.  They hauled a little fishnet back of mini-cheese rounds out of the fridge for their appetizer but they were quickly frustrated opening the nylon mesh to get at the little individual cheese packages inside.  Knowing Daddies are good for this sort of thing, and little else, they immediately came to me seeking a helping hand.  Looking for my own pre-dinner snack at the time, I saw an opportunity that would be both educational and nutritionally satisfying.

"Sure, I'll open the bag for you," I said, "but if I do you each need to give me a Daddy-bite of your cheese.  It's called a service tax."

"No way!" was the response, having seen the wide-spread destruction a Daddy-bite can inflict -- but, they insisted, we still want your help.  So at that point it just became a matter of negotiating the fee.  We settled on a deal whereby I, the aforementioned Daddy, hereafter referred to as the SERVICE PROVIDER, would open the aforementioned BAG and extract the aforementioned cheese packets, hereafter referred to as the MERCHANDISE, on the condition that the aforementioned customers, hereafter referred to as the MERCHANDISE RECIPIENTS, would provide said SERVICE PROVIDER with one (1) kiddie-bite from each distributed MERCHANDISE item.

I quickly opened the netting and extracted the cheese packets thereby fulfilling in full my terms of the contract.  The kids unwrapped their little cheese packets and as I held my hand out expectantly, they, with much reluctant hesitation and second-guessing, handed over their MERCHANDISE as per the terms of their contract.  At that point I simply took L's cheese and in one bite devoured nearly all of it, returning L the tiniest crescent moon sliver.  I was watching N the whole time, still holding his whole, unwrapped cheese in my hand.  His eyes got momentarily huge with shock and disbelief; as his little mind raced to envision the likely outcome scenario of his cheese his panicked eyes began to fill with tears.  I knew I was enjoying it all way too much, so I cut the torture short by taking only the tiniest little nibble off N's cheese and handing it back to him.  He held it in his hands totally flummoxed, like he had never seen such a thing before, not quite understanding what just happened.

At this point L began to catch on to the injustice of it all and started squawking mightily.   This gave me my much anticipated opportunity to explain the graduated tax system and how those more endowed bear the larger burden.  I also went into a long discussion of how tax laws and rates change very quickly and the taxee has very little say into what he or she will be required to bear.  I also gave her one final point of warning, that Uncle Sam would never do what I was about to do - then giving her a fresh, unopened packet of subsidized cheese.