I’d assumed it covered school supplies, swimming lessons, and winter clothing.
I’d never asked for receipts.
I trusted my son.
But as I drove along Highway 400, I began wondering how much of that assistance had become something they simply expected.
For six years, I’d made myself available whenever they needed something.
Yet when it came time to eat a dinner I’d prepared, there wasn’t even an empty chair.
That was the moment I understood.
I’d become necessary to their expenses but optional to their celebrations.
When I reached home, I carried the ham inside and placed it in the oven to keep warm.
Then I sat at my kitchen table and opened my laptop.
I wasn’t going to send angry messages.
I wasn’t going to demand apologies.
I was simply going to reconsider some decisions I’d been making for years.
First, I opened my phone carrier account.
