Wayne stormed out of the kitchen, his plate of half-eaten meatloaf pushed aside, his face twisted in a look of annoyance. "I'm sick of meatloaf," he grumbled, "Can't you make anything else?" He wasn’t just complaining about dinner, he was testing the limits, as he always did.

His mother, Martha, looked up at him with a combination of frustration and disbelief. "We had roast chicken yesterday, hamburgers the day before, fish on Friday... What more do you want?" she asked, her voice thick with patience—something she had practiced over the years of raising a teenager like Wayne.

Wayne sniffed and threw his hands up. "Yeah, yeah... whatever!" He got up from the table and made his way toward the door, but his mother wasn’t done yet.

"Wayne," she called out. "Please rinse your plate and put it in the dishwasher."

He turned to face her, his eyes narrowing in defiance. "Why should I?" he sneered, his teenage arrogance evident. "I'm not your slave!"

Martha, taken aback, tried to keep her composure. "My slave? How can helping out make you my slave?" Her voice was steady but hurt by his words.

Wayne wasn’t done. "You don’t pay me, do you?" He placed his hands on his hips, feeling victorious with his own logic. "Work without pay is slavery!"

Martha’s face flushed with a mixture of anger and disbelief. Her husband, Ramson, watched the exchange, his brow furrowed.

"We support you, son," Ramson interjected, his voice firm but calm. "We house you, feed you, clothe you, and educate you... We do this because we love you."

Wayne rolled his eyes, clearly unimpressed. "That’s your duty," he said, waving off his father’s words. "It’s my right to have everything you give me. And the law says you have to do it too. But I don’t have to do anything around here."

Martha stood up, her frustration reaching a boiling point. "I see! So we have duties, and you have rights? Is that what you believe? What about your duty to help, to do your chores?"

"I’m not your slave," Wayne repeated arrogantly. "If you want me to do things around here, you’d better pay me!"

His mother’s face twisted in anger. But Ramson, as usual, remained calm, though a slight smile tugged at the corner of his mouth.

"Pay you?" he asked, his voice gentle but firm. "And how much would you want for doing your chores?"

Wayne’s chest puffed up. "I’ve thought about it. For taking out the trash, $1. For washing dishes, $2. Walking the dog, $4. Cleaning my room, $5. And for cleaning the yard and mowing the lawn, $10. And you're lucky I'm not demanding back pay!"

Martha, unable to keep quiet any longer, shouted, "Never!" But Ramson gently placed a hand on her arm and turned to Wayne with a calm but knowing smile.

"I agree, Wayne," Ramson said, his voice full of resolve. "We will pay you for your work, just like you’ve asked. From now on, you’re a man, and we will treat you as such."

Wayne stood tall, smirking in satisfaction. "It’s about time you showed me some respect!" he said smugly. But Martha was seething, her fists clenched at her sides, while Ramson remained eerily calm.

"Well then, son," Ramson said. "We’ll start tomorrow. I’ll put up a chart with your chores, and you can write down what you’ve done each day. At the end of the week, say Friday afternoons, we’ll pay you."

Wayne grinned. "That’s just perfect, Dad!" And with that, he walked off to his room, completely oblivious to the storm that was about to hit him.

After Wayne left, Martha turned to Ramson. "How could you? He’s disrespectful, lazy, and greedy. He needs to learn... something."

Ramson smiled, a knowing glint in his eye. "Don’t worry, Martha. I have a plan. Our dear little boy is in for an unpleasant experience. We’re going to teach him a lesson he’ll never forget."

The next day, Wayne walked in after football practice, his stomach growling in hunger. "Hey, Mom! What’s for dinner?" he asked eagerly.

Martha smiled sweetly. "Turkey pot-pie with sweet potatoes and peas," she said, her voice dripping with sweetness.

"Cool!" Wayne exclaimed. "I’m starving!" He walked over to the chart Ramson had made and immediately filled in walking the dog and cleaning his room. "$9 already," Wayne thought to himself. "I’m going to be rich!"

Later that night, the delicious smell of the turkey pot-pie lured Wayne down to the kitchen. He walked into the kitchen and found both his parents eating at the table.

"Mom!" he cried indignantly. "You didn’t call me for dinner! I told you I was starving!"

Martha smiled sweetly, her voice unwavering. "But Wayne, now that you’re earning your own money, you will have to support yourself. If you want your mother to cook for you, you’ll have to pay her."

Wayne’s eyes widened. "PAY her?" he gasped. "I’m not going to pay her!"

"Well, I’m afraid you’ll have to dip into your savings and order takeout, then," Martha said, her voice still calm. "I’m sure you can afford it."

Wayne, flustered, stormed upstairs, muttering under his breath. He ordered a pizza, and when it arrived, it cost him $15, plus the delivery fee and tip. Wayne had to work for three days to pay for that pizza. Being "independent" was more expensive than he realized.

The next morning, Wayne came down for breakfast. "Hi, Mom," he said sweetly. "Can I have my eggs over easy?"

Martha smiled and replied, "Sure, son! That will be $6 for breakfast!"

Wayne’s face twisted in disbelief. "You’re charging me for breakfast?" he asked angrily.

Martha didn’t flinch. "Of course, son. Everything costs money, even breakfast."

Wayne could hardly believe it. He was expected to pay for everything now. But it didn’t end there. Later that day, Wayne mentioned that his coach wanted him to buy a new jersey for the team, and it would cost $69.99.

His father, Ramson, smiled and responded, "Well, son, now that you’re earning your own money, you pay for your own expenses. That includes clothes."

Wayne was stunned. "But… I don’t have $70!" he protested.

"Save up from your earnings, Wayne," Ramson said. "That’s what we do."

Wayne, now defeated, asked his dad for a ride to school, but was met with yet another charge. "Sure, son," Ramson replied. "That will be $5.50."

Wayne’s eyes widened. "You’re charging me for a ride to school?"

Ramson smiled. "Well, you would pay a taxi, wouldn’t you?"

Wayne’s frustration boiled over. "You’re my DAD!" he shouted.

Martha chimed in, "That reminds me! It will be $12.50 for washing and ironing your clothes."

Wayne walked to school, late and angry, with nothing but his own thoughts. That night, as he ate the cafeteria food, he realized how much he missed his mother’s home-cooked meals. The comfort of being fed without worrying about how much it cost.

That evening, when Wayne came down to dinner, he was despondent. His parents were having a meal that smelled delicious, but Wayne wasn’t sure how to ask for it.

"Mom, Dad?" he said quietly, his voice shaky.

"Yes, son?" Ramson asked.

"I just wanted to say I’m sorry," Wayne said, his voice full of regret. "I guess I never thought about everything you two do for me every day, and you never ask for anything in return."

"We were hoping you’d realize that, Wayne," Martha said softly, her voice warm. "Everything we do for you, we do out of love, not obligation."

Wayne wiped his eyes. "I know, mom. I’m so sorry."

Ramson stood up and wrapped his arms around him. "Son, in this family, we do all we can to help each other. That’s what being a family is all about."

Martha smiled warmly. "How about some dinner? I made cottage pie and green beans—your favorite!"

That night, Wayne had the most peaceful dinner with his parents, and he learned one of the most important lessons of his life: to appreciate all the sacrifices his parents made for him, and to step up and do his part.

Wayne would never forget the lesson.