Wesley slouched in his chair and pushed his plate away with a look of disgust. “I’m sick of meatloaf,” he groaned. “Can’t you make anything else?” He glanced at his mother with an annoyed expression.
His mother raised an eyebrow, clearly unimpressed. “We had roast chicken yesterday, hamburgers the day before that, and fish on Friday. I try to make different things, Wesley.”
“Yeah, yeah… whatever,” he muttered, getting up from the table.
“Wesley,” his mother called after him. “Please rinse your plate and put it in the dishwasher.”
Wesley crossed his arms. “Why should I? I’m not your slave!”
His mother gasped. “My slave? Wesley, how can helping out around the house be considered slavery? This is your home too!”
“You don’t pay me, do you?” Wesley said with a triumphant smirk. “Work without pay is slavery!”
His father, Rick, frowned. “We support you, son. We put a roof over your head, feed you, clothe you, and pay for your education.”
“That’s your duty as parents and my right as your kid! The law says you have to take care of me, but I don’t have to do a thing!” Wesley declared smugly.
His mother’s face turned red with frustration. “I see! So we have duties, and you only have rights? Is that really what you believe? What about your responsibility to help out?”
“I’m not your slave,” Wesley repeated. “If you want me to do chores, you’d better start paying me!”
His mother opened her mouth to argue, but his father placed a hand on her arm. He looked at Wesley with a calm expression. “Alright, son. How much do you think your chores are worth?”
Wesley grinned. “I’ve thought about it! Taking out the trash—$1. Washing dishes—$2. Walking the dog—$4. Cleaning my room—$5. Cleaning the yard and mowing the lawn—$10. And you’re lucky I’m not asking for back pay.”
His mother shook her head in disbelief. “Absolutely not!”
But his father remained calm. “I agree, Wesley. From now on, we’ll pay you for your work. You’re a man now, and we’ll treat you as such.”
Wesley puffed out his chest. “It’s about time you showed me some respect!”
His father nodded. “We’ll start tomorrow. I’ll put up a chart where you can write down what you’ve done. Every Friday, you’ll get paid. Sound fair?”
“Perfect!” Wesley beamed, walking away, already dreaming about how much money he’d make. Little did he know, he was about to have one of the worst weeks of his life.
The next day, after a long football practice, Wesley arrived home, starving. “Hey Mom, what’s for dinner?” he asked eagerly.
His mother smiled sweetly. “Turkey pot pie with sweet potatoes and peas.”
“Awesome! I’m starving!” Wesley rubbed his hands together, excited to dig in. But as he stepped toward the dining table, he noticed a chart on the wall. He quickly filled in “Walking the dog” and “Cleaning my room.” That’s $9 already! I’m going to be rich, he thought.
An hour later, he followed the delicious smell back to the kitchen, expecting his plate to be ready. Instead, he found his parents eating without him.
“Mom!” Wesley exclaimed. “Why didn’t you call me? I told you I was starving!”
His father put down his fork and looked at him. “Well, son, now that you’re earning your own money, you need to support yourself. If you want your mother to cook for you, you’ll have to pay her.”
“PAY HER?!” Wesley shouted. “I’m not paying for dinner!”
“Well, then you’ll have to use your savings and order takeout,” his mother said, still smiling.
Fuming, Wesley stomped upstairs and ordered a pizza. When he saw the bill—$15 plus a delivery fee and tip—his stomach dropped. I have to work three whole days just to pay for one pizza?!
The next morning, he woke up to the smell of bacon and eggs. He rushed downstairs, licking his lips. “Mom, can I get my eggs over easy?”
“Of course, dear,” his mother said sweetly. “That will be $6.”
“You’re charging me for breakfast?!” he yelled.
His mother simply shrugged. “Food costs money.”
Later that day, Wesley approached his father. “Dad, I need $70 for my new football jersey. Coach said we have to get one.”
His father raised an eyebrow. “Why are you telling me this?”
“So you can give me the money!”
His dad shook his head. “Now that you’re earning money, you pay for your own expenses, including clothes. That’s how adulthood works.”
“I don’t have $70!” Wesley protested.
“Then you’ll have to save up from your wages,” his father said.
Wesley felt like the walls were closing in. Not only did he have to pay for food, but now he had to buy his own clothes too?! This wasn’t what he imagined when he demanded payment for chores.
“Fine,” Wesley sighed. “At least give me a ride to school—I’m running late.”
“Of course! That will be $5.50,” his father said cheerfully.
Wesley’s jaw dropped. “You’re CHARGING me for a ride to school?!”
“Well, you’d pay a taxi, wouldn’t you?”
Wesley turned to his mother, hoping for sympathy, but she was flipping through a notebook. “Oh! That reminds me. You owe me $12.50 for washing and ironing your clothes this week.”
Wesley groaned and stomped out the door. He ended up walking to school and arrived late. That afternoon, he ate school cafeteria food, which had never tasted so good. He missed his mom’s home-cooked meals—meatloaf, mac and cheese, her delicious Irish stew…
That evening, Wesley came downstairs at dinnertime, looking miserable. His parents were enjoying a warm, home-cooked meal. His stomach growled loudly.
“Mom… Dad?” he said hesitantly. “Can we talk?”
His father gestured for him to sit. “Of course, son. What’s on your mind?”
Wesley took a deep breath. “I just wanted to say I’m sorry about that whole payment thing. I never really thought about everything you both do for me every single day. And you never ask for anything in return.”
His mother’s face softened. “We were hoping you’d realize that, sweetheart. We do these things out of love, not obligation. That’s what being a family is about.”
“I get it now, Mom,” Wesley said, his voice thick with emotion. “I’m really sorry.”
His father patted his back. “Son, in this family, we work together to make life better for all of us. That’s what a real home is.”
His mother wiped a tear from her eye and smiled. “How about some dinner? I made your favorite—cottage pie with green beans.”
That night, Wesley had the best dinner he’d had in a long time, but more importantly, he had learned a lesson he would never forget: appreciate everything your family does for you, and always do your part.