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| Blogs > SilyconBond > I'm a dumpster fire |
Lost an argument with a 7-year-old
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Lost an argument with a 7-year-old Yesterday, when I still could work from home, I did until four pm. I met my next-door neighbor outside and started cutting the limbs from her tree that broke and froze into my driveway. It's a mesquite-like tree with large thorns. I hate the tree, but it thrives in this area. After about an hour of cutting and pulling away limbs, my driveway was finally free, sort of. A lot of the thorns broke off and embedded themselves in the snow and ice. If I pulled my car in, one of them would indeed puncture a tire. So, I started shoveling my driveway. After almost an hour, I got two sections done. Six more to go, yikes. A of walked me, and I knew one of them. "Shawn, can I you ten dollars to shovel my driveway?" I asked him. He looks at it. "Ten, from where to where?" He asks as the rest of the walks away. I show him. "I'll do it." He says. I went inside and could watch him as he worked. He was an enthusiastic . Didn't pause till he did one section, then another, etc. The last area was the hardest on him. It took him twice as long to finish it as the first two. I was pretty happy, looked in my wallet...Only two twenties...No problem. I'll just give him a twenty. At least that was my intention. So I went back outside, took my shovel from him, and handed him the twenty. "I don't have any change." He said. "I think the work you deserved a little extra. You did a great job." "But this is ten dollars more." He said. "I didn't have anything smaller. Just take the twenty." I said. "This doesn't feel right; we agreed on ten. I don't want to take advantage of you. My Mom and Dad like you." He said. "Consider the extra ten a . Or a tip for great ." I said. "A ? You want me to show you the ten dollars when you visit?" He said. "What do you mean?" I asked. "When my grandma gives my mom a , my mom stores it in the closet with the other and brings them out when my grandma visits the next time. She's got an ugly lamp in there, a porcelain duck, and an itchy sweater." He said. "My little man, a is something you can throw away if you want. Otherwise, it's an anchor." I said. "Why would I throw away ten dollars? How would ten dollars be an anchor? We don't own a boat." He said. I had to think. How to put it in 7-year old terms? "Well, you could give the twenty to your Dad and ask him for two tens," I said, and off he ran with the twenty before I could complete the rest of what I was going to say. Whatever. I him. That was all that was important. I thought anyway. I'm relaxing, folding the last load of laundry when I get a knock on the door. I go open it. After all, my neighbors knock. I disabled the doorbell years ago. Shawn's Dad is at the door with Shawn. "Come in, come in," I said and pulled them into the warmth. "Hey, my said you owed him ten dollars, and you gave him a twenty." He said. "Yes, Yes I did. He worked really hard on my driveway." I said. "But you said ten." He said, mimicking his earlier. "I don't want him to take advantage of you. I'm trying to bring my boy upright. Also, what is this about being boat anchors?" He said. "That's what he said, Dad. Grandma's are boat anchors." Shawn said. "I was speaking metaphorically. Comparing a that you can't throw away as something that ties you to the spot." I said. "Metaphocaligory? Meta...I don't know the word. Are you trying to confuse my boy? Just take back this twenty, and when you get change, give him the ten." He said. "I want him to have twenty, not ten. Do you understand?" I said. "You have another job he can do for that other ten?" He said. "I think my trash needs to be taken out, " I said in a confused manner. Shawn zipped over to my trashcan in the kitchen, pulled it out, and took it to the trash bin I had in the<b> backyard. </font></b>The job only took a minute, but somehow I lost the whole argument. Both of them were happy now, and we said our goodbyes. Why did I feel bad for letting the take out my trash? I mean, I wanted to give him more for that task, maybe a couple quarters. After all, I was already him for the driveway; why can't they just take my ? I thought of ways to sneak to the , but they have cameras all around their house. How would I explain taping fifty cents to his bike? Why must I live in this hell? Why can't I just let it go? |
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Yesterday, when I still could work from home, I did until four pm. I met my next-door neighbor outside and started cutting the limbs from her tree that broke and froze into my driveway. It's a mesquite-like tree with large thorns. I hate the tree, but it thrives in this area. After about an hour of cutting and pulling away limbs, my driveway was finally free, sort of. A lot of the thorns broke off and embedded themselves in the snow and ice. If I pulled my car in, one of them would indeed puncture a tire. So, I started shoveling my driveway. After almost an hour, I got two sections done. Six more to go, yikes. A group of kids walked by me, and I knew one of them. "Shawn, can I pay you ten dollars to shovel my driveway?" I asked him. He looks at it. "Ten, from where to where?" He asks as the rest of the group walks away. I show him. "I'll do it." He says. I went inside and could watch him as he worked. He was an enthusiastic kid. Didn't pause till he did one section, then another, etc. The last area was the hardest on him. It took him twice as long to finish it as the first two. I was pretty happy, looked in my wallet...Only two twenties...No problem. I'll just give him a twenty. At least that was my intention. So I went back outside, took my shovel from him, and handed him the twenty. "I don't have any change." He said. "I think the work you deserved a little extra. You did a great job." "But this is ten dollars more." He said. "I didn't have anything smaller. Just take the twenty." I said. "This doesn't feel right; we agreed on ten. I don't want to take advantage of you. My Mom and Dad like you." He said. "Consider the extra ten a gift. Or a tip for great service." I said. "A gift? You want me to show you the ten dollars when you visit?" He said. "What do you mean?" I asked. "When my grandma gives my mom a gift, my mom stores it in the closet with the other gifts and brings them out when my grandma visits the next time. She's got an ugly lamp in there, a porcelain duck, and an itchy sweater." He said. "My little man, a gift is something you can throw away if you want. Otherwise, it's an anchor." I said. "Why would I throw away ten dollars? How would ten dollars be an anchor? We don't own a boat." He said. I had to think. How to put it in 7-year old terms? "Well, you could give the twenty to your Dad and ask him for two tens," I said, and off he ran with the twenty before I could complete the rest of what I was going to say. Whatever. I paid him. That was all that was important. I thought anyway. I'm relaxing, folding the last load of laundry when I get a knock on the door. I go open it. After all, my neighbors knock. I disabled the doorbell years ago. Shawn's Dad is at the door with Shawn. "Come in, come in," I said and pulled them into the warmth. "Hey, my son said you owed him ten dollars, and you gave him a twenty." He said. "Yes, Yes I did. He worked really hard on my driveway." I said. "But you said ten." He said, mimicking his son earlier. "I don't want him to take advantage of you. I'm trying to bring my boy upright. Also, what is this about gifts being boat anchors?" He said. "That's what he said, Dad. Grandma's gifts are boat anchors." Shawn said. "I was speaking metaphorically. Comparing a gift that you can't throw away as something that ties you to the spot." I said. "Metaphocaligory? Meta...I don't know the word. Are you trying to confuse my boy? Just take back this twenty, and when you get change, give him the ten." He said. "I want him to have twenty, not ten. Do you understand?" I said. "You have another job he can do for that other ten?" He said. "I think my trash needs to be taken out, " I said in a confused manner. Shawn zipped over to my trashcan in the kitchen, pulled it out, and took it to the trash bin I had in the backyard. The job only took a minute, but somehow I lost the whole argument. Both of them were happy now, and we said our goodbyes. Why did I feel bad for letting the kid take out my trash? I mean, I wanted to give him more for that task, maybe a couple quarters. After all, I was already paying him for the driveway; why can't they just take my money? I thought of ways to sneak money to the kid, but they have cameras all around their house. How would I explain taping fifty cents to his bike? Why must I live in this hell? Why can't I just let it go?
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I like that kid.
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goes to prove sometimes we can learn from children...if we just....yeah,im gonna do it...pay attention.. woop woop
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When someone tells me not to worry, I do. Thank you for the comment.
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I like that kid.
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Thank you for the comment. WY is really far away. I remember riding with my Dad along I-80 and eating at McDonalds, then throwing up at the hotel in Cheyenne. It was the last road trip I ever took with him and it was awesome. There was so much drama and hard points along the way that it left me with some great stories. Thank you for commenting so I could revisit that experience in my head. Also, you have a very pretty eye color. Is there a story behind the Advil bottle?
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Thank you Joy.
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goes to prove sometimes we can learn from children...if we just....yeah,im gonna do it...pay attention..
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Hey, c'mon now - taking out the garbage is worth at least 2 bucks!  Elevate me... 
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That story warmed my heart. When people tell me not to worry about things , I do. It's my nature I guess. The Light is shinning and she is lonely and waiting in the darkness. 
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