Wesley sat at the dinner table, staring at the plate in front of him with a frown. He wrinkled his nose. “Meatloaf again?” he groaned. “Can’t we have something else for a change?”
His mother, Martha, raised an eyebrow, clearly unimpressed. “We had roast chicken yesterday, hamburgers the day before, and fish on Friday,” she said, folding her arms. “You get plenty of variety.”
Wesley rolled his eyes. “Yeah, yeah… whatever.” He pushed the plate away and stood up.
“Wesley,” his mom called. “Rinse your plate and put it in the dishwasher.”
Wesley turned to face her, crossing his arms. “Why should I? I’m not your slave!”
His mother gasped. “My slave? How is helping out around your own house slavery?”
Wesley smirked. “Well, you don’t pay me, do you? Work without pay is slavery!”
His father, Rick, who had been quietly watching the exchange, frowned. “Son, we provide for you. We house you, feed you, clothe you, and make sure you get an education. That’s not exactly slavery.”
“That’s your duty and my right!” Wesley shot back. “The law says you have to do that. But I don’t have to do anything!”
Martha’s face turned red with frustration, but Rick placed a calming hand on her arm. “So, we have duties, and you have rights? Is that how you see it? What about your duty to help, to contribute to the family?”
Wesley smirked. “Like I said, I’m not your slave. If you want me to do chores, you’d better start paying me!”
Martha was about to explode, but Rick kept his cool. “Alright, Wesley,” he said, smiling. “We’ll pay you for your chores, just like a job. From now on, you’re a man, and we’ll treat you like one.”
Wesley grinned triumphantly. “Finally, some respect!”
“We start tomorrow,” his dad continued. “I’ll put up a chore chart. At the end of the week, you get paid based on what you’ve done. Sound good?”
“Perfect!” Wesley said, already thinking about all the money he’d be making.
But Wesley had no idea that this was going to be the toughest week of his life.
The next day, Wesley came home from football practice, exhausted and starving. He tossed his backpack onto the couch and headed straight for the kitchen. “Hey, Mom! What’s for dinner?”
“Turkey pot pie with sweet potatoes and peas,” Martha said sweetly.
“Awesome! I’m starving!”
As he reached for a plate, he noticed a chart pinned to the wall. He immediately grabbed a pen and marked down walking the dog and cleaning his room.
“That’s nine dollars already,” he thought proudly. “I’m going to be rich!”
But when he sat down at the table, he noticed something strange—his parents were already eating, and there was no plate set for him.
“Mom?” he said, confused. “You didn’t call me for dinner.”
Martha smiled. Rick looked up from his plate and said, “Well, son, now that you’re earning your own money, you have to support yourself. If you want your mother to cook for you, you’ll have to pay her.”
Wesley’s jaw dropped. “PAY her?! No way!”
Martha shrugged. “Then you’ll have to order takeout.”
Wesley stomped upstairs, furious. He ended up ordering a pizza, which cost him $15 plus a delivery fee. As he calculated, he realized he’d have to work three whole days just to cover that one meal.
The next morning, the smell of bacon and eggs filled the kitchen. Wesley’s stomach grumbled. He sat down at the table, smiling at his mom. “Morning, Mom! Can I get my eggs over easy?”
“Of course, dear! That will be six dollars.”
Wesley nearly fell out of his chair. “You’re charging me for breakfast?!”
Martha nodded. “That’s how it works when you’re independent.”
Wesley grumbled but ate a granola bar instead. Things were not going how he planned.
Later, at school, he approached his dad. “Hey, Dad. Coach said we need new team jerseys. They cost $69.99. Can you give me the money?”
Rick raised an eyebrow. “Why would I do that? You’re earning money now. You have to buy your own clothes.”
“I don’t have that kind of money!” Wesley protested. “Where am I supposed to get $70?!”
“Save up,” Rick said. “That’s what we do.”
Reality was sinking in fast. Not only did he have to pay for his food, but now his clothes, too?
“Fine,” Wesley grumbled. “Can you at least drive me to school? I’m running late.”
“Sure,” Rick said with a smile. “That’ll be $5.50.”
Wesley’s mouth fell open. “You’re charging me for a ride?! But you’re my DAD!”
Martha chimed in sweetly. “Speaking of which, that’ll be $12.50 for washing and ironing your clothes.”
Frustrated beyond belief, Wesley decided to walk to school, but he was late. At lunch, he ate cafeteria food, missing his mom’s home-cooked meals more than ever.
That evening, Wesley came downstairs, looking miserable. The smell of his mom’s famous cottage pie filled the air. His stomach growled, and he hesitated before speaking. “Mom? Dad? Can we talk?”
Rick put down his fork. “Of course, son. What’s on your mind?”
Wesley sighed, looking at his feet. “I just… I just wanted to say I’m sorry about the whole payment thing. I didn’t think about everything you guys do for me, and you never ask for anything in return.”
Martha softened. “We were hoping you’d understand that. Everything we do, we do out of love, not because we have to.”
“I get that now,” Wesley whispered, his eyes filled with regret. “I’m really sorry.”
Rick stood up and pulled him into a hug. “Son, family is about helping each other, not keeping score. We wanted you to learn that.”
Martha smiled warmly. “Now, how about some dinner? I made cottage pie and green beans—your favorite.”
That night, Wesley sat with his parents, enjoying every bite of his mom’s cooking. He had learned a valuable lesson—one he would never forget.
What Can We Learn From This Story?
- Love doesn’t demand payment.
- A family works together to make everyone’s life better.
- True appreciation comes from understanding the effort others put in for you.
