I don’t stay in my feelings long because my life is great. Sometimes we think we know what we want, but the grass isn’t always greener on the other side. I have everything I need. I love my lone child and my wife more than anything in this world. My sister and her children are the cherries on top of my life’s parfait. I have friends whom I love, three beautiful homes, multiple streams of income, good health, and, of course, the fur babies. I don’t need much more.
The rain stopped, so I jump at the chance to get started on the treehouse. I get as far as building a quick scaffold before Sophia comes out with an amazing proposal: we should invite Dub, Maia, and Tami over for a cookout. That is the best idea. We had such an awesome time together back in El Ciudad Enamorada, and we all insisted we needed to get together more often. But, of course, life does life things, and we still haven’t scheduled anything. Sophia and Maia became good friends on that trip, and I’m glad she’s taking the lead on this because, left up to me, we’d probably never do it. I’m always go, go, go, moving onto the next thing. I’m so glad my friends love me because I still suck at keeping in touch.
I give Sophia enthusiastic approval of her plan, so she goes back inside. I get back to building the treehouse, but within minutes I feel cool drops of rain rolling down my face. If this cat-and-mouse situation continues for the rest of the season, I’m never gonna finish this thing. Desiree and the kids will be teenagers and too big for it by the time I’m done. I stow my tools reluctantly and go inside. While it’s on my mind, I text Dub to give him a heads up so we can start planning our next family shindig.
I find Sophia breaking in our new sitting area in the kitchen, so I join her. Shortly after, Desi finds us and enters the chat. It’s in that moment I feel that release I needed about her going to school. I have no idea how or where that feeling came from, but when school starts back up again, I can let her go without being a worried mess. She loves hanging out with us, but I can tell she’s eager to build her own social circle. I’ll miss her, but I want her to thrive, and she can’t do that hanging around us all the time.
“What do you think about giving Des an allowance?” Sophia asks.
“What’s an allowance?” Desiree asks.
I don’t say it out loud, but I want to know too. I mean, of course I’ve heard of it. Kids at school used to talk about how much money they made all the time, but I never understood its purpose. If I needed money, I just asked my mom, and she gave it to me. Most of the time, she gave more than I asked for.
“It’s a set dollar amount parents give their children every week for doing chores and things,” Sophia says.
I feel my face shriveling in confusion.
“But…shouldn’t she do chores anyway because she lives here and should help us take care of the house?” I ask.
“Well, yeah, of course she should. It’s not really about paying her to do the chores. It’s more about teaching fiscal responsibility. My parents gave me an allowance, and it made me feel like I had more freedom.”
I understand what she’s saying, but I think we could accomplish the same things without the salary. My mom didn’t just hand out money when we were kids. She started that in our adulthood when we could appreciate the extra funds. She always questioned our money requests, wanting to know our plan for it and all. We’d talk about it, and sometimes she would say no because it wasn’t a good idea. I think those kinds of conversations are more valuable than letting a child have their own money to buy insane amounts of candy or whatever. But what do I know? I’m just a first-time parent with limited life experience.
“If you think it’s a good idea, fine,” I say. “I don’t think it’s necessary, but I’m sure she’d enjoy it.”
I look over at Desi, and she’s beaming, already spending the money in her head. I really hope this is a good idea.
