Spoiled Son Demands Money For Doing His Chores

A teenage boy insists his parents pay him for doing household tasks, only to discover a hard truth.

Wesley shoved his dinner plate away in frustration. “I’m so tired of meatloaf,” he grumbled. “Can’t you cook anything else?” he directed at his mom.

His mother’s face showed irritation. “We had roast chicken yesterday, burgers the day before, and fish last Friday…”

Wesley scoffed. “Yeah, whatever!” He pushed back his chair and stood up.

“Wesley,” his mom said firmly, “please rinse your plate and put it in the dishwasher.”

“Why should I?” Wesley responded with the arrogance of a typical teenager. “I’m not your servant!”

“Servant?” his mother repeated, aghast. “How does helping out make you a servant?”

“Well, you don’t pay me, do you?” Wesley countered smugly. “Working without pay is basically slavery!”

His father frowned. “We provide for you, Wesley,” he said seriously. “You have a roof over your head, meals on the table, clothes on your back, and an education…”

“That’s your responsibility, not mine!” Wesley retorted. “It’s my right, and the law says so. I don’t have to do anything!”

His mom’s face reddened. “Oh, I see. We’re obligated to fulfill our duties, but you think you have no responsibilities at all? Is that what you believe?”

“I’m not your servant,” Wesley said again, his tone dripping with disdain. “If you want me to do chores, you’ll have to pay me.”

His mom started to speak, but his dad placed a calming hand on her arm. “You want to be paid?” his father asked coolly. “And how much do you think your work is worth?”

Wesley grinned triumphantly. “I’ve worked it out. Taking out the trash is $1, doing the dishes is $2, walking the dog is $4, cleaning my room is $5, and mowing the lawn or tidying the yard is $10. Oh, and I won’t even demand back pay—for now.”

“Absolutely not!” his mom exclaimed, her voice rising, but his dad remained composed.

“Alright,” his father said evenly. “If that’s how you feel, we’ll pay you for your work. From this moment on, you’ll be treated as an adult.”

Wesley’s chest puffed out with pride. “Finally, some respect!” he said, beaming, while his mother started to protest again. But once more, his father gave her a reassuring look.

“Alright, son,” his father continued, “we’ll start tomorrow. I’ll make a chore chart, and you’ll note down what you’ve done each day. At the end of the week, we’ll tally it up and pay you. Sound fair?”

“Perfect!” Wesley said confidently, heading off to his room with a self-satisfied grin, unaware he was about to face a week he wouldn’t soon forget.

Later, Wesley’s mom turned to his dad. “Rick, how could you agree to this? He’s being rude, selfish, and lazy! He needs to learn some respect…”

Rick smiled—a sly, knowing smile. “Don’t worry, Martha. I’ve got a plan. Our little entrepreneur is about to get a harsh lesson.”

The following day, after football practice, Wesley arrived home exhausted and hungry. “Hey, Mom!” he called out. “What’s for dinner?”

“Turkey pot pie with sweet potatoes and peas,” she replied sweetly.

“Awesome!” Wesley exclaimed, already imagining the food. He noticed the chore chart his dad had put up and eagerly marked off walking the dog and cleaning his room. He planned to take out the trash later.

Nine dollars already, he thought gleefully. I’m going to make a fortune! An hour later, the smell of food brought him back to the kitchen, where he found his parents already eating.

“Mom!” he cried indignantly. “You didn’t call me, and I told you I was starving!”

Smiling, his dad replied, “Well, Wesley, now that you’re earning money, you’ll need to pay for your meals. If you want your mother to cook for you, you’ll need to compensate her.”

“PAY her?” Wesley shouted. “That’s ridiculous!”

“Then you’ll have to order takeout,” his mother said calmly.

Reluctantly, Wesley ordered pizza, which cost $15 plus a delivery fee and tip. Doing the math, he realized he’d have to work three days to afford that single meal. Being “independent” was proving expensive.

The next morning, the aroma of bacon and eggs greeted him in the kitchen. “Morning, Mom!” he said sweetly. “Can I have mine sunny-side up?”

“Of course,” she replied with a smile. “That’ll be $6.”

“You’re charging me for breakfast?” Wesley exclaimed, outraged.

Later, he approached his dad. “Coach says we need new jerseys, and they’re $69.99. Can you give me the money?”

“Why are you telling me?” his dad asked, still smiling. “You’re earning money now. That’s your expense.”

Wesley was flabbergasted. “I don’t have that kind of cash! Where am I supposed to get it?”

“Save up,” his dad said simply. “It’s what adults do.”

By now, Wesley was overwhelmed. Feeding himself, buying his own clothes—this wasn’t what he envisioned when he demanded payment for chores. “Fine,” he grumbled. “Can you at least drive me to school? I’m running late.”

“Sure,” his dad said with a grin. “That’ll be $5.50.”

“You’re charging me for a ride? You’re my dad!”

“Well, taxis aren’t free,” his dad pointed out.

Later that night, Wesley dragged himself into the kitchen, where his parents were eating. The delicious smell was almost too much to bear. “Mom, Dad?” he said softly. “Can we talk?”

“Of course,” his father replied. “What’s on your mind?”

“I’m sorry,” Wesley said, his voice shaking. “I never realized how much you both do for me without asking for anything in return.”

His mom smiled gently. “We do it out of love, Wesley, not because we have to.”

“I understand that now,” he said, tears in his eyes. “I’m really sorry.”

His dad hugged him. “In our family, we help one another to make life better for everyone. That’s what family means.”

His mom joined in, hugging him too. “How about some dinner? I made your favorite—cottage pie and green beans.”

That evening, Wesley learned an unforgettable lesson: to appreciate his parents and do his part to support his family.