MOTHERLODE
Sons' list of chores includes paying it forward
February 18, 2008
Lorraine Sommerfeld
There was a knock at my door not too long ago. A pleasant looking middle-aged man smiled at me, and introduced himself. He was the son of some of my neighbours, come to secure the snow-shovelling services of Marc and Jackson for when he returned to his home after visiting his folks.
"I used to babysit you," I said, startled. How could I have babysat someone who was now so very obviously older than me?
"Yes, you did," he smiled. "My folks tell me you have two teenage boys now. Do you think they would mind clearing the snow at my parents' place? I was going to leave money with you now, so you could pay them as they did it," he continued.
"Oh, really, they shovel it already, you don't have to pay them," I said. I repeatedly tell the boys I've been shovelling the same drives since I was a kid; I like them to be motivated by Mom Guilt rather than money. Self-motivation would be nice, but Mom Guilt will do.
"Let me pay. I'd like the boys to be able to earn it, and I like knowing it'll be done," he said, jamming a bunch of twenties at me.
While I have no problem giving my sons an allowance in exchange for a list of chores they are responsible for, I also expect them to do things that I order off the menu. Raking leaves in the fall and shovelling snow all winter are two of those things.
Whenever we get a lot of snow, they know they are expected to help out in the neighbourhood. We have a nice mix of people here in the court, and the unspoken rule is that nobody with health issues is expected to dig themselves out. We that can, do.
I've explained to the boys that many of these people helped out their grandparents, and this is how karma works. Many times I came home from work with two exhausted little boys in the car, and found, to my almost tearful relief, that a neighbour had shovelled my drive. This is the cycle they are a part of, and they will shovel.
I clipped the twenties to the notice board, and told the boys whoever shovelled first in a snow storm got paid. Jackson, 13, smiled like a Cheshire cat. He knew his brother was usually working, so for effort he laid out anyway, he would now be paid.
I explained that we would still be doing the other drives, too, but to be sure he did the Babbs', as their son had prepaid. While waiting to pick up Marc, 16, from work one night, I realized it was getting late and we'd had quite a bit of snow. I called Jackson and told him he had to go shovel out the Babbs.
"Can't I wait until you get home?" he moaned.
"No. It's your job. Go shovel," I said.
Coming into the court half an hour later, I saw snow flying everywhere in the Moore driveway. Jackson was a flurry of activity, the ear flaps on his hat swinging as he worked the shovel. As I drove past the Babbs', I saw the snow, untouched. While we shovel the Moore's drive as well, I was curious why he'd started there. Pulling up alongside the curb, I inched the window down.
"Honey, that's nice of you. But aren't you going to do the Babbs'," I asked him. He looked up, shovel paused mid-swing. He puffed an exhausted breath into the frosty night.
"You mean this isn't the Babbs?"
Lorraine Sommerfeld appears Mondays in Living and Saturdays in Wheels. Reach her via her website lorraineonline.ca.
Toronto Star