Even though we started the practice about two years ago, it often seems to come as a surprise to Zack that Monday night is his turn to fix dinner. I suppose it’s progress, then, that he was thinking about dinner while in the chair at his orthodontist appointment on Monday afternoon. He began this text message exchange while I was in the waiting room:
Can we please get takeout from some place? Pleeeeaaassseeee?
Of course not. My money tree is but a sapling. And I have made dinner every time I was home for the past forever.
I was glad to realize that some of the conversations about the money tree are taking root. Meanwhile, we had some good leftovers in the fridge, so Zack’s workload as chef-du-jour was minimal, and he liked what we had enough to go back for seconds and thirds.