Can we get takeout?

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?

You paying?

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.

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