Quid Pro Quo

What a sad state of affairs when your son presents you with a contract complete with lines for initials and signatures requiring family time each day. It's a game contract, and I won't go into all of the details. It is lengthy and filled with technical jargon, talks about penalties for missing days, and includes two grace days a week so long as they are made up in said week.

I don't know whether to be embarrassed that the kid had to write the darn thing or impressed at how well written it is and wondering if this is somehow related to a future career for him.

What I do know is he's turning 12 years old and is still asking to spend time with his parents, as my friends so insightfully pointed out; and that each time we honor his contract, he just glows. It reminds me of what I've read in some books: that we're depositing love into his emotional savings account from which I hope he will draw on in the roller-coaster teen years to come.