A teenage boy demands that his parents pay him for doing his household chores and learns a painful lesson.
Wesley pushed his plate away. “I’m sick of meatloaf,” he complained. “Can’t you make anything else?” he asked his mother.
His mom looked at him indignantly. “We had roast chicken yesterday, hamburgers the day before, fish on Friday…”
Wesley sniffed derisively. “Yeah, yeah…Whatever!” and got up from the table.
“Wesley,” said his mother. “Please rinse your plate and put it in the dishwasher.”
“Why should I?” asked Wesley with typical teen arrogance. “I’m not your slave!”
Price list for chores | Source: AmoMedia.com
“My slave?” gasped his mother, “How can helping out make you my slave?”
“You don’t pay me, do you?” asked Wesley triumphantly. “Work without pay is slavery!”
Wesley’s dad frowned. “We support you, son,” he pointed out. “We house you, feed you, clothe you, and educate you…”
“That’s your duty and my right!” said Wesley. “And the law says you have to do it too, but I don’t have to do a thing!”
Wesley’s mom changed color. “I see! So we have duties and you have rights? Is that what you believe? What about your duty to help, to do your chores?”
“I’m not your slave,” repeated Wesley arrogantly. “If you want me to do things around here, you’d better pay me!”
A rebellious teen | Source: Pexels
Wesley’s mom jumped up but his father laid a gently restraining hand on her arm. “Pay you?” asked the father calmly. “And how much would you want for doing your chores?”
Wesley smiled triumphantly. “I’ve thought about that. For taking out the trash, $1, for washing dishes, $2, walking the dog, $4, cleaning my room, $5, and for cleaning the yard and mowing the lawn, $10. And you’re lucky I’m not demanding back pay.”
“Never!” cried Wesley’s mom angrily, but his father smiled calmly.
“I agree, Wesley. We will pay you for your work according to your demands. From now on you are a man, and we will treat you as such.”
Wesley puffed out his chest. “It’s about time you showed me some respect!” he crowed, and his mother opened her mouth to utter an angry retort. Once again Wesley’s dad smiled sweetly and restrained her.
Angry mother | Source: Unsplash
“Well, son, we start tomorrow, OK? I’ll put up a chart with your chores, and you write down what you’ve done on a daily basis. At the end of each week, say Friday afternoons, you get paid. What do you think?”
Wesley smiled happily. “That’s just perfect, dad!” Wesley walked out feeling on top of the world, without realizing he was about to have one of the worse weeks of his life.
A family works as a unit to make their collective lives better.
Wesley’s mom turned to his father. “Rick, how could you? He’s disrespectful, lazy, and greedy. He needs to learn,…”
Rick was smiling, and it wasn’t a nice smile. “Don’t worry, Martha, I have a plan, and our dear little boy is in for a very unpleasant experience. We’re going to teach him a lesson!”
The next day, Wesley walked into the house after football practice. It had been a long day at school and he was starving. “Hey mom!” he said. “What’s for dinner?”
Making a price list for his chores | Source: Pexels
“Turkey pot-pie with sweet potatoes and peas,” his mother said smiling sweetly.
“Cool!” cried Wesley. “I’m starving!” He saw that his dad had put up a chart on the wall and he immediately walked over and filled in walking the dog and cleaning his room. Later he would take out the trash.
That’s $9 already, though Wesley happily. I’m going to be rich! An hour later the scent of the food lured him down to the kitchen again where he found his mother and his father having dinner.
“Mom!” he cried indignantly. “You didn’t call me and I told you I was starving!”
Wesley’s mom smiled, and his father replied: “But Wesley, now that you are earning your own money, you will have to support yourself. If you want your mother to cook for you, you will have to pay her.”
“PAY HER?” screamed Wesley, “I’m not going to pay her!”
Walking the dog | Source: Unsplash
“Well, I’m afraid you’ll have to dip into your savings and order take away, then.” Wesley’s mother said still smiling.
“But…but…That’s not fair!” screamed Wesley and stormed upstairs. He ordered a pizza and it cost him $15 plus the delivery fee and the tip. Wesley worked out that he’d have to work three whole days to pay for that pizza. Being an independent man was expensive!
The next morning he came down for breakfast to find his mother making bacon and eggs and it smelled delicious. “Hi mom,” he said sweetly, “can I have my eggs over easy?”
“Sure, son!” she smiled. “That will be $6 for breakfast!”
“You’re charging me for breakfast?” cried Wesley angrily. “That’s not fair!”
But Wesley was in for another surprise. “Dad,” Wesley said, “our coach said we have to have new team jerseys and it will cost $69,99.”
Cleaning up his room | Source: Unsplash
“I see,” said his dad smiling. “But why are you telling me this?”
“Well, so you can give me the money!” said Wesley.
“But, Wesley,” his dad said, still smiling, “now that you’re earning money, you pay for your own expenses, and that includes clothes. I thought you knew that.”
“I don’t have that kind of money!” cried Wesley. “Where am I supposed to get $70?”
“Save it up from your what you earn, of course. It’s what we do!” dad said.
Wesley was stunned. Not only would he have to feed himself, but he’d also have to buy his own clothes? This wasn’t what he’d imagined when he’d demanded payment for his chores. “Well, OK,” he said. “Listen, dad, could you give me a ride to school? I’m a bit late…”
Nothing for dinner | Source: Unsplash
“Sure, son!” his dad smiled. “That will be $5.50.”
“You’re going to charge me for a ride to school?” Wesley gasped.
“Sure, after all, you’d pay a taxi, wouldn’t you?” his dad pointed out reasonably.
“But you’re my DAD!” cried Wesley. “And you’re charging me?”
“Oh Wesley, dear,” said his mother sweetly. “That reminds me! That will be $12.50 for washing and ironing your clothes.”
Wesley walked to school and was late. At lunchtime, he ate the cafeteria food with great gusto. He wondered when he’d taste his mother’s meatloaf again, or her mac and cheese, or her amazing Irish stew…
Boy runs out of money | Source: Unsplash
That night, Wesley came down at dinnertime looking despondent. His parents were having dinner and it smelled delicious. Wesley’s stomach rumbled. “Mom, dad?” he said quietly. “Can we talk?”
“Sure son,” said his father. “What’s on your mind?”
“I just wanted to say I’m sorry about that payment thing. I guess I never thought about everything you two do for me every day, and you never ask for anything in return.”
“We were hoping you’d realize that, Wesley. Everything we do for you, we do out of love, not obligation or duty,” his mother said.
“I know, mom, I’m so sorry,” Wesley whispered, and his eyes filled with tears.
Wesley’s dad got up and put his arms around him. “Son, in this family we do all we can to help each other, to make all our lives easier and better. That’s what being a family is all about, and we were hoping you’d understand that.”
Boy apologizes to his parents | Source: Pexels
Wesley’s mom gave him a hug too and said, “So how about some dinner? I made cottage pie and green beans — your favorite!”
That night, Wesley had one of the nicest evenings ever with his parents, and he learned one of the most important lessons: to appreciate all that his parents do for him and to do his part in helping his family.
What can we learn from this story?
1. Love doesn’t demand payment.
2. A family works as a unit to make their collective lives better.
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I Fell for My Daughter-in-Law’s Grumpy Neighbor, but Thanksgiving Exposed the Awful Truth About Our Relationship – Story of the Day
Living with my son and his unbearable wife was far from the peaceful arrangement I had imagined. But when the grumpy neighbor next door unexpectedly asked me to dinner, everything began to change. Little did I know, a secret plan was unfolding — one that would turn my life upside down.
I had been living with my son Andrew and his ever-resentful wife, Kate, for two weeks. It wasn’t an arrangement either of them had ever wanted, but my accidental, slightly exaggerated leg injury had finally forced Kate’s reluctant consent.
For illustration purposes only. | Source: Midjourney
She opposed it, of course—she had for years—but this time, she had no choice.
Stepping out onto the porch that morning, I spotted her in the yard, raking leaves. Watching her from a distance, I sighed. The poor girl hadn’t the faintest idea what she was doing.
“Kate, you’re doing it all wrong!” I called, raising my voice. She didn’t even look up.
For illustration purposes only. | Source: Midjourney
I assumed she hadn’t heard, so I moved closer, wincing for effect. “I’m telling you, you’re raking them the wrong way. Start with small piles, then combine them into one big heap. Dragging them across the yard is a waste of time.”
She stopped abruptly, leaning on the rake, and turned to face me. Her face betrayed the exhaustion of carrying a child and hosting an unwanted guest.
For illustration purposes only. | Source: Midjourney
“I thought your leg hurt,” she said flatly, her gaze drifting to my suspiciously steady walk. “Maybe it’s time for you to go home?”
The nerve of her! Clutching my leg for emphasis, I replied indignantly, “I was trying to help you, despite the pain, and this is how you thank me?”
Kate rested a hand on her belly, the protective gesture unmistakable. “I’m seven months pregnant. Helping would mean actually doing something useful,” she said, her voice sharper than the autumn air.
For illustration purposes only. | Source: Midjourney
Rude, I thought, but I forced a tight smile. She wasn’t worth the argument.
Across the fence, Mr. Davis, their grouchy neighbor, shuffled into view, his perpetual scowl in place.
“Good afternoon, Mr. Davis!” I chirped, trying to soften his hard expression. He grumbled something under his breath and disappeared into his house without so much as a nod. Just like Kate—miserable and unsociable.
For illustration purposes only. | Source: Midjourney
Back inside, I noticed dust on the furniture again. Kate was on maternity leave—surely, she could spare time to clean. Andrew deserved a better-kept home after all his hard work.
Later, Kate returned to the house and started preparing dinner. Naturally, I offered her a few helpful tips, but my advice seemed to fall on deaf ears. Eventually, she turned and said coldly, “Please, just leave the kitchen.”
For illustration purposes only. | Source: Midjourney
That evening, as Andrew came through the door, I heard her complaining to him. Leaning close to the wall, I caught snippets of their conversation.
“We discussed this,” Andrew said, his tone measured. “It’ll benefit everyone.”
“I know,” Kate replied with a weary sigh. “I’m already trying, but it’s harder than you think.”
When I peeked around the corner, I saw Andrew embracing her, his arms wrapped protectively around her growing belly. He comforted her as if she were the victim here!
For illustration purposes only. | Source: Midjourney
At dinner, I couldn’t resist pointing out that her pie was undercooked.
“I have an idea,” Kate said suddenly, her tone too cheerful to be genuine. “Why don’t you bake a pie yourself and bring it to Mr. Davis?”
I frowned. “That grump? He doesn’t even greet me,” I scoffed, narrowing my eyes at her.
“I think you’re mistaken. He’s not so bad—just shy,” she said, a knowing smile tugging at her lips. “Besides, I’ve seen the way he looks at you.”
For illustration purposes only. | Source: Midjourney
I laughed, the sound hollow. “If that’s true, he’s the one who should make the first move. A man should court a lady.”
Kate sighed, her gaze shifting to Andrew, who squeezed her hand as if sharing a secret.
The next morning, the last thing I expected was to see Mr. Davis approaching the yard.
“Margaret,” he began stiffly, his posture as awkward as his tone. “Would you… well… have dinner with me?”
For illustration purposes only. | Source: Midjourney
“For you, it’s Miss Miller,” I replied, raising an eyebrow.
His lips twitched in frustration. “Alright, Miss Miller,” he corrected himself. “Would you allow me to invite you to dinner?”
“I allow it,” I said, crossing my arms. He nodded curtly and turned to leave.
“Is that how you invite someone?” I called after him, watching him freeze mid-step. “When? Where?”
For illustration purposes only. | Source: Midjourney
“Tonight at seven. My house,” he said without turning back.
The rest of the day was a flurry of preparation. By seven sharp, I stood at his door, my heart unexpectedly fluttering. When he opened the door, his expression was as grim as ever.
Inside, he gestured for me to sit at the table. Not even a pulled-out chair—some gentleman.
For illustration purposes only. | Source: Midjourney
During dinner, the conversation was stilted until I mentioned my love for jazz. His face transformed, his usual gloom replaced by a boyish enthusiasm.
“I’d play my favorite record for you,” he said, his voice softer now. “And I’d even invite you to dance, but my record player’s broken.”
“You don’t need music to dance,” I said, surprising myself.
To my astonishment, he rose and extended his hand. As we swayed in the dim light, he hummed a familiar tune, one I hadn’t heard in years. Something inside me softened, and for the first time in ages, I didn’t feel alone.
For illustration purposes only. | Source: Midjourney
Afterward, I turned to him. “Mr. Davis, it’s getting late. I should go home.”
He nodded silently, his usual reserved demeanor returning, and walked me to the door.
Before I stepped outside, he hesitated. “You can call me Peter,” he said, his voice softer than I’d ever heard it.
“And you can call me Margaret,” I replied, smiling.
For illustration purposes only. | Source: Midjourney
Then, to my astonishment, he leaned in. For a moment, I froze, uncertain, but when his lips brushed mine, I realized I didn’t want to pull away.
The kiss was gentle and hesitant, but it stirred something I hadn’t felt in years.
As he pulled back, he searched my face for a reaction. I simply smiled, my heart lighter than it had been in ages.
“Good night, Peter,” I said softly, stepping outside. The cool night air met my flushed cheeks, but the smile stayed on my face all the way home—and long after.
For illustration purposes only. | Source: Midjourney
Peter became an irreplaceable part of my days. We spent hours together, laughing over neighborhood gossip, reading books from his vast collection, and trying our hands at new recipes.
While I cooked, he’d hum my favorite songs, filling the house with warmth.
I found a joy I hadn’t known in years, a quiet contentment that made everything else fade.
Kate’s sharp remarks no longer bothered me; my world revolved around Peter.
For illustration purposes only. | Source: Midjourney
On Thanksgiving, I invited him to dinner so he wouldn’t spend the day alone. I noticed him slipping into the kitchen to speak with Kate. Curious, I followed.
“Kate, I wanted to talk to you about the record player,” Peter said, his voice hesitant but firm.
“Mr. Davis, I’ve already ordered it. It’ll arrive soon. You have no idea how grateful I am,” Kate replied with a hint of relief. “You’ve made my life so much easier. I don’t know how you put up with her, but soon the record player will be yours. Thank you for agreeing to this whole charade.”
For illustration purposes only. | Source: Midjourney
The words hit me like a slap. A record player? Putting up with me? A charade? The realization burned through me as anger surged.
“So, this was all a game?!” I burst into the kitchen, my voice trembling with fury.
Kate froze, her face pale. “Oh…” was all she managed.
“Care to explain?!” I shouted, my gaze darting between her and Peter.
Andrew rushed in, his brow furrowed in concern. “What’s going on?”
For illustration purposes only. | Source: Midjourney
“Your wife concocted some scheme against me!” I exclaimed, pointing an accusing finger at Kate.
Andrew sighed deeply. It was as if he was bracing himself for a storm. “Mom, it wasn’t just her. It was my idea too. We thought you and Mr. Davis might make each other happy. Neither of you would have made the first move, so we gave him a little… encouragement.”
“Encouragement?” I repeated, my voice rising.
For illustration purposes only. | Source: Midjourney
“We offered him a record player,” Andrew admitted, his tone measured but guilty. “In exchange for going on dates with you.”
“Andrew, why?” Kate whispered.
“At least my son is honest with me!” I snapped, crossing my arms.
For illustration purposes only. | Source: Midjourney
“Your son was also at his wit’s end with you!” Kate shot back, her voice tinged with frustration. “You were constantly interfering in our lives, nitpicking every little thing I did. And I’m pregnant with your grandchild—I couldn’t handle the stress! So yes, we came up with this plan, and it worked perfectly. You finally had something to do, and I got a break!”
Her words hung in the air, stinging more than I cared to admit. I shook my head, disbelief coursing through me. “You know what, Peter? I could have expected this from her. But not from you.”
For illustration purposes only. | Source: Midjourney
“Margaret, I can explain…” Peter began, stepping toward me.
But I was too angry to listen. I stormed out of the house, my old leg injury reminding me of its presence with every step.
“Margaret!” Peter called after me. “Margaret, wait!”
Spinning around, I glared at him. “What?! What could you possibly say? I’m too old for these games!”
For illustration purposes only. | Source: Midjourney
He stopped, his face clouded with regret. “I told Kate I didn’t need her record player! That I just wanted to be with you!” he shouted, his voice raw with emotion.
“That doesn’t change the fact that you agreed to it at first,” I retorted, my voice trembling.
For illustration purposes only. | Source: Midjourney
“Because you were awful!” Peter snapped, then softened. “Or at least, that’s what I thought. I heard how you constantly picked on Kate, always telling her what to do. But the truth is, I wasn’t any better—grumpy, closed off, and bitter. You changed me, Margaret. You made me feel alive again. You reminded me how to find joy in the little things.”
I hesitated, his words piercing through my anger. “Why should I believe you?” I asked, my voice quieter now.
For illustration purposes only. | Source: Midjourney
Peter stepped closer, his gaze steady. “Because I’ve fallen for you, Margaret. For the meticulous, bossy, always-right woman who also cares so deeply, who cooks meals that feel like home, and who knows all my favorite songs by heart. I love you—all of you.”
Tears welled in my eyes, his confession shaking me to my core. The truth was undeniable—I had fallen for him too. No matter how furious I was, my feelings wouldn’t let me walk away.
For illustration purposes only. | Source: Midjourney
He reached out, gently brushing a tear from my cheek. “I’m sorry for hurting you. Please, give me a second chance.”
I nodded slowly, letting the tension ease. “Alright,” I said, my voice softening. “But you’re keeping that record player from Kate. We’ll need it for our music.” Peter laughed, relief and joy washing over his face.
From that Thanksgiving on, Peter and I were inseparable. Each year, we celebrated the holiday with music playing on that record player, our love growing stronger with every tune.
For illustration purposes only. | Source: Midjourney
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If you enjoyed this story, read this one: While navigating a difficult divorce, Ellis meets a bold young man at a bar who offers to transform her life. His charm and confidence seem like the perfect distraction, but their connection soon leads to unexpected revelations that force Ellis to confront her past — and her family — in ways she never anticipated.
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