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A daycare center employee pushes a KinderVan filled with preschool children on an outing along the National Mall in Washington, DC.
The president says we can't afford both. My neighbors are already paying the price.
In a single week, the Pentagon spent $11 billion destroying Iran's nuclear capabilities—the same capabilities the administration had declared "completely obliterated" just months earlier.
On Easter Sunday, President Donald Trump explained his priorities. "It's not possible for us to take care of daycare, Medicaid, Medicare, all these individual things," he said. "We have to take care of one thing: military protection."
He's right that a choice is being made. But in a democracy, we the people are the ones who are supposed to have that choice.
My neighbors didn't get one. Until recently, our children went to the same daycare, at least until prices went up by 10%. They provided several weeks notice, then phased the increase over a few weeks. For us, the raise meant $200 more per month. Our neighbors, on the other hand, had three kids in daycare.
For the Pentagon, it's bomb first, figure out the money later. For parents, the bills are due today.
The increase added up to $600 a month more than they'd been paying, so they pulled out. Two kids went to a super cheap option—more like group babysitting, really—because they were about to age out and attend free pre-K. Their youngest daughter switched to a place they didn't love, with food they didn't trust.
Overall, they were disappointed. It meant more logistics for pickup and dropoff. They felt more pressure to teach and cook healthy food for their kids. But ultimately, they didn't have a choice. Financially, this was the only way to make it work.
Millions of American families make calculations like this every day—cutting corners on childcare, food, healthcare—just to keep the math working. They do it quietly, without a press conference, without a vote.
The daycare crisis was already breaking families before the Iran war started.
The average American family pays over $13,000 a year per child—more than the average cost of in-state college tuition in many states. Waitlists stretch for months. In some counties, there are more children who need care than licensed spots available. For working parents, especially single parents, affordable daycare isn't a luxury. It's the difference between holding a job and not. And after an election fought on affordability, it was getting harder, not easier.
Economic shockwaves from the war hit immediately. Gas prices surged, adding an average of $175 (and counting) to every American driver's bill. Food prices followed. And in May, Spirit Airlines shut down entirely, citing Iran War fuel costs as the final straw—grounding a low-cost carrier that millions of working families depended on.
There are about 10.8 million US children enrolled in daycare at a national average of $13,128 per year. Collectively, parents spend roughly $390 million per day making sure their children are cared for.
The Pentagon's official tally for the war is $29 billion—almost certainly an undercount. Administration sources told CBS the real figure is closer to $50 billion. Even at their own number, that covers daycare for 2.5 months for every enrolled American child.
But the Pentagon's figure leaves out Midnight Hammer, Southern Spear, and the ongoing ceasefire costs. Harvard professor Linda Bilmes, who has spent two decades tracking the true costs of American wars, estimates the full bill could swell to over $1 trillion within a decade.
And then there's what no spreadsheet can measure. Thirteen service members killed. More than 400 wounded. Military families lend their loved ones to this country on the promise that their sacrifice means something—that the people sending them into harm's way are making choices worthy of that trust.
The daycare math suggests otherwise.
The combined price tag of Trump's wars, plus over $40 billion in extra gas costs borne by American drivers since the war began, brings the total north of $79 billion—enough to fund more than seven months of daycare for all 10.8 million enrolled children.
For the Pentagon, it's bomb first, figure out the money later. For parents, the bills are due today.
Simply put, you cannot make a meaningful choice—at the ballot box or anywhere else—when the numbers in front of you are at best incomplete and at worst deliberately misleading. And every day this war continues, Trump is deciding what your family can and can't afford.
Relief won't come in time for my neighbors. Their kids will age out of daycare before Washington does anything about it. They made the best choice they could with what they had. Most American families don't get any other kind.
Demand a vote on this war. Demand the real price tag. And in November, remember who made this choice for you.
Dear Common Dreams reader, It’s been nearly 30 years since I co-founded Common Dreams with my late wife, Lina Newhouser. We had the radical notion that journalism should serve the public good, not corporate profits. It was clear to us from the outset what it would take to build such a project. No paid advertisements. No corporate sponsors. No millionaire publisher telling us what to think or do. Many people said we wouldn't last a year, but we proved those doubters wrong. Together with a tremendous team of journalists and dedicated staff, we built an independent media outlet free from the constraints of profits and corporate control. Our mission has always been simple: To inform. To inspire. To ignite change for the common good. Building Common Dreams was not easy. Our survival was never guaranteed. When you take on the most powerful forces—Wall Street greed, fossil fuel industry destruction, Big Tech lobbyists, and uber-rich oligarchs who have spent billions upon billions rigging the economy and democracy in their favor—the only bulwark you have is supporters who believe in your work. But here’s the urgent message from me today. It's never been this bad out there. And it's never been this hard to keep us going. At the very moment Common Dreams is most needed, the threats we face are intensifying. We need your support now more than ever. We don't accept corporate advertising and never will. We don't have a paywall because we don't think people should be blocked from critical news based on their ability to pay. Everything we do is funded by the donations of readers like you. When everyone does the little they can afford, we are strong. But if that support retreats or dries up, so do we. Will you donate now to make sure Common Dreams not only survives but thrives? —Craig Brown, Co-founder |
In a single week, the Pentagon spent $11 billion destroying Iran's nuclear capabilities—the same capabilities the administration had declared "completely obliterated" just months earlier.
On Easter Sunday, President Donald Trump explained his priorities. "It's not possible for us to take care of daycare, Medicaid, Medicare, all these individual things," he said. "We have to take care of one thing: military protection."
He's right that a choice is being made. But in a democracy, we the people are the ones who are supposed to have that choice.
My neighbors didn't get one. Until recently, our children went to the same daycare, at least until prices went up by 10%. They provided several weeks notice, then phased the increase over a few weeks. For us, the raise meant $200 more per month. Our neighbors, on the other hand, had three kids in daycare.
For the Pentagon, it's bomb first, figure out the money later. For parents, the bills are due today.
The increase added up to $600 a month more than they'd been paying, so they pulled out. Two kids went to a super cheap option—more like group babysitting, really—because they were about to age out and attend free pre-K. Their youngest daughter switched to a place they didn't love, with food they didn't trust.
Overall, they were disappointed. It meant more logistics for pickup and dropoff. They felt more pressure to teach and cook healthy food for their kids. But ultimately, they didn't have a choice. Financially, this was the only way to make it work.
Millions of American families make calculations like this every day—cutting corners on childcare, food, healthcare—just to keep the math working. They do it quietly, without a press conference, without a vote.
The daycare crisis was already breaking families before the Iran war started.
The average American family pays over $13,000 a year per child—more than the average cost of in-state college tuition in many states. Waitlists stretch for months. In some counties, there are more children who need care than licensed spots available. For working parents, especially single parents, affordable daycare isn't a luxury. It's the difference between holding a job and not. And after an election fought on affordability, it was getting harder, not easier.
Economic shockwaves from the war hit immediately. Gas prices surged, adding an average of $175 (and counting) to every American driver's bill. Food prices followed. And in May, Spirit Airlines shut down entirely, citing Iran War fuel costs as the final straw—grounding a low-cost carrier that millions of working families depended on.
There are about 10.8 million US children enrolled in daycare at a national average of $13,128 per year. Collectively, parents spend roughly $390 million per day making sure their children are cared for.
The Pentagon's official tally for the war is $29 billion—almost certainly an undercount. Administration sources told CBS the real figure is closer to $50 billion. Even at their own number, that covers daycare for 2.5 months for every enrolled American child.
But the Pentagon's figure leaves out Midnight Hammer, Southern Spear, and the ongoing ceasefire costs. Harvard professor Linda Bilmes, who has spent two decades tracking the true costs of American wars, estimates the full bill could swell to over $1 trillion within a decade.
And then there's what no spreadsheet can measure. Thirteen service members killed. More than 400 wounded. Military families lend their loved ones to this country on the promise that their sacrifice means something—that the people sending them into harm's way are making choices worthy of that trust.
The daycare math suggests otherwise.
The combined price tag of Trump's wars, plus over $40 billion in extra gas costs borne by American drivers since the war began, brings the total north of $79 billion—enough to fund more than seven months of daycare for all 10.8 million enrolled children.
For the Pentagon, it's bomb first, figure out the money later. For parents, the bills are due today.
Simply put, you cannot make a meaningful choice—at the ballot box or anywhere else—when the numbers in front of you are at best incomplete and at worst deliberately misleading. And every day this war continues, Trump is deciding what your family can and can't afford.
Relief won't come in time for my neighbors. Their kids will age out of daycare before Washington does anything about it. They made the best choice they could with what they had. Most American families don't get any other kind.
Demand a vote on this war. Demand the real price tag. And in November, remember who made this choice for you.
In a single week, the Pentagon spent $11 billion destroying Iran's nuclear capabilities—the same capabilities the administration had declared "completely obliterated" just months earlier.
On Easter Sunday, President Donald Trump explained his priorities. "It's not possible for us to take care of daycare, Medicaid, Medicare, all these individual things," he said. "We have to take care of one thing: military protection."
He's right that a choice is being made. But in a democracy, we the people are the ones who are supposed to have that choice.
My neighbors didn't get one. Until recently, our children went to the same daycare, at least until prices went up by 10%. They provided several weeks notice, then phased the increase over a few weeks. For us, the raise meant $200 more per month. Our neighbors, on the other hand, had three kids in daycare.
For the Pentagon, it's bomb first, figure out the money later. For parents, the bills are due today.
The increase added up to $600 a month more than they'd been paying, so they pulled out. Two kids went to a super cheap option—more like group babysitting, really—because they were about to age out and attend free pre-K. Their youngest daughter switched to a place they didn't love, with food they didn't trust.
Overall, they were disappointed. It meant more logistics for pickup and dropoff. They felt more pressure to teach and cook healthy food for their kids. But ultimately, they didn't have a choice. Financially, this was the only way to make it work.
Millions of American families make calculations like this every day—cutting corners on childcare, food, healthcare—just to keep the math working. They do it quietly, without a press conference, without a vote.
The daycare crisis was already breaking families before the Iran war started.
The average American family pays over $13,000 a year per child—more than the average cost of in-state college tuition in many states. Waitlists stretch for months. In some counties, there are more children who need care than licensed spots available. For working parents, especially single parents, affordable daycare isn't a luxury. It's the difference between holding a job and not. And after an election fought on affordability, it was getting harder, not easier.
Economic shockwaves from the war hit immediately. Gas prices surged, adding an average of $175 (and counting) to every American driver's bill. Food prices followed. And in May, Spirit Airlines shut down entirely, citing Iran War fuel costs as the final straw—grounding a low-cost carrier that millions of working families depended on.
There are about 10.8 million US children enrolled in daycare at a national average of $13,128 per year. Collectively, parents spend roughly $390 million per day making sure their children are cared for.
The Pentagon's official tally for the war is $29 billion—almost certainly an undercount. Administration sources told CBS the real figure is closer to $50 billion. Even at their own number, that covers daycare for 2.5 months for every enrolled American child.
But the Pentagon's figure leaves out Midnight Hammer, Southern Spear, and the ongoing ceasefire costs. Harvard professor Linda Bilmes, who has spent two decades tracking the true costs of American wars, estimates the full bill could swell to over $1 trillion within a decade.
And then there's what no spreadsheet can measure. Thirteen service members killed. More than 400 wounded. Military families lend their loved ones to this country on the promise that their sacrifice means something—that the people sending them into harm's way are making choices worthy of that trust.
The daycare math suggests otherwise.
The combined price tag of Trump's wars, plus over $40 billion in extra gas costs borne by American drivers since the war began, brings the total north of $79 billion—enough to fund more than seven months of daycare for all 10.8 million enrolled children.
For the Pentagon, it's bomb first, figure out the money later. For parents, the bills are due today.
Simply put, you cannot make a meaningful choice—at the ballot box or anywhere else—when the numbers in front of you are at best incomplete and at worst deliberately misleading. And every day this war continues, Trump is deciding what your family can and can't afford.
Relief won't come in time for my neighbors. Their kids will age out of daycare before Washington does anything about it. They made the best choice they could with what they had. Most American families don't get any other kind.
Demand a vote on this war. Demand the real price tag. And in November, remember who made this choice for you.