Callista wrote:
Depending on the interest.
When I was fascinated with physics, mom supported it. When I was fascinated with the Animorphs book series, I had to hide my obsession because my mom would have taken the books away when she saw them. (Mom isn't into fiction. At all. And she only wanted to take them away because she thought they were about evolution; she would have been scared they were going to give me nightmares if she actually knew what they were about. Funnily enough, by that point I was having nightmares thanks to the guys she was marrying, which were a lot more frightening than any brain-stealing aliens.) Mom got piano lessons for me; but when she had to cut back financially, they were among the first things to disappear... And while it might have been the sheer intensity of my book obsession, I never did get to go to the library near as often as I wanted to. I became famous at the library for being the little girl hauling out what seemed like more books than I could possibly carry--my strategy to cope with the fact that library visits were infrequent and you never knew when you could go back.
Nothing made my blood boil more than to watch my mother smoking as she said the family couldn't afford something. ("Yeah you can, just cut out that $2k a year tobacco bill, and eat at home more.")
It's funny, because my little 'obsessions' are actually quite a bit cheaper than what they spend on my brother, or their nicotine fix. There's usually a productive end to it as well. (Knowing physics vs. being that much closer to lung cancer.)