Let us take a journey. Not through space—sorry, Elon—but through the colorful, carpeted world of Kindergarten Economics 101, where nap time is sacred and sharing is not optional. Today’s lesson: Why people tell broke folks to buy fewer toasts, but never tell billionaires to buy fewer rocket ships.

So, gather on the story rug, kiddos. Criss-cross applesauce. Eyes on teacher. Let’s begin.

Imagine we are all in Miss Andrea’s classroom. Each of us has a pile of blocks. These blocks represent our money. Some kids have ten blocks, which they use to build a house, a bed, maybe even a snack shack. But some kids—let us call them “Little Jeffy” or “Mini Musk”—have ten THOUSAND blocks. They have castles with robot servants, motorized ball pits, and gold-plated monkey bars. And jetpacks. Jetpacks everywhere.

Now here’s the kicker. When Little Jane in the corner, who has only three blocks, says:
“Teacher, I can’t build a roof over my playhouse. It rains on me every time the class guinea pig sneezes,”

someone—not the teacher, mind you, but usually a Very Serious Adult in a business suit with a podcast—says:
“Well, Jane, maybe you shouldn’t have spent one of your three blocks on chocolate milk and pretend avocado toast.”

But when Little Jeffy, whose literal block tower is crushing another child’s nap mat, is asked, “Hey, could you maybe spare a few blocks so the kids helping you don’t have to live inside an overturned shoe cubby?” he shrugs and says:
“Sorry, I’m launching another rocket to Saturn. Priorities.”

And instead of saying, “Hey now, Jeffy, maybe cut it with the interplanetary ego trip and pay your block-builders fairly,” everyone claps. They call him a visionary. They give him a gold star and a juice box.

Let’s pause for a giggle.

Because in real life, this is how it works:

If you are poor, people assume it is because you made poor choices.
If you are rich, people assume it is because you made smart choices.
Even if the rich guy’s “smart choice” was inheriting Daddy’s entire Lego empire and using it to launch himself into low-orbit narcissism.

So what do we tell the poor folks?

“Stop buying Starbucks!”
“Make your own soap!”
“Just work harder!”

What do we tell the billionaires?

“You’re such a job creator!”
“We love your submarine-shaped pool table!”
“Take us with you when you flee Earth!”

This is what economists call “trickle-down logic” and what the rest of us call “utter nonsense.”

In kindergarten terms, imagine this:

Mini Musk spills his entire Capri Sun on the floor. Instead of cleaning it up, he yells, “It is Little Jane’s fault! She asked for a napkin last week, and now I am out of supplies!” Then he blasts off to his treehouse in a glittery hot air balloon made entirely of diamond Legos.

And somehow, the class blames Jane.

Even though Jane just wanted to color inside the lines without freezing to death under the air vent because her playhouse has no roof.

Do you see the problem here?

Now, let us talk about the toast. The avocado toast, to be exact.

Grown-ups love to use this as a symbol of young people being “reckless” with money. Like some ancient oracle once said,
“He who eats green mush on artisanal bread shall never own land.”

But let’s be honest: no one is broke because they ate toast.

People are broke because the price of blocks went up 600%, while their weekly allowance stayed the same since 1995.
Meanwhile, the kid who owns the crayon factory charges $8 per crayon, but pays his workers in… leftover Play-Doh.

Now, remember: we are not mad at Jeffy just because he has lots of blocks.
We are mad because Jeffy keeps sitting on them while saying he cannot afford to give anyone else even one.

It is not the blocks. It is the hoarding, the blaming, and the audacity to say,
“Well, if Little Jane would just stop splurging on juice boxes, she would have a yacht by now.”

So here is a better rule, straight from the nap mat:

If you cannot pay your workers a fair wage, you should not own a spaceship.

Period. Full stop. Take that rule and stick it on a bulletin board with glitter glue and a macaroni border.

Because sharing is not a weakness.
Caring about others is not a flaw.
And pretending poverty is caused by toast instead of wage theft is a lie only rich kids with glitter jetpacks believe.

So next time someone says,
“Well maybe if you didn’t buy that $5 latte…”
you say:
“Maybe if your boss didn’t buy a fifth yacht with a helipad shaped like his initials, we’d all have healthcare.”

And if that still does not make sense?

Ask them to explain it to you like you are in kindergarten.

Then ask if they want to trade blocks.

Just do not give them your juice box. You earned that!