There’s nothing kids love quite like feeling “grown up.” Give them some responsibility, and they’re hooked. At least, that’s how I felt when I worked in my dad’s home office. My dad has his own business, and when he had invoices to mail, he let me help him prepare the envelopes. This was thrilling to me. As a small child, I loved pressing the return-address stamp onto the black ink pad. I loved the stamp’s disappearing act, the swivel that made the raised letters come and go. One moment, there were no words in the upper left hand corner of ...
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