The Book Fair is at Aidan's school this week. Last time we spend like $60 and I thought my husband was going to draw up divorce papers. This time Aidan picked out a mere $34 worth of books he wanted. I gave him $6 to buy ONE book and donate the rest to their 'donate to buy books for some random kids program'.
Done. Or so you'd think.
He comes home with TWO books because Teacher let him use the donation portion to buy another book.
I really wouldn't think anything of that except that at lunch that very day, the Mr predicted that even though I wrote out a note detailing how Aidan was to spend his money, he'd spend the donation money on himself. I was secure in the belief that No, not with a note. And what the hell happened?
I flippin' hate it when he's right like that! I also hate saying flippin' instead of fuckin'.
At this point you'd think the Book Fair issue was over. It's not. It's only Wednesday and Aidan's scheming to get more books. He's doing random chores and expecting payment for them. Like putting his dirty clothes in the laundry room. You know, like I tell him to do EIGHT times a day? Or wiping his pee off the side of the toilet that he's not supposed to be standing in front of. Even washing dishes. And by washing I mean swishing luke-warm water around in a dirty pan and setting it right side up in the dish drainer.
Still, I think I could pretty much get him to do anything this week. Best part? I never agreed to this doing chores for money nonsense so it's basically free labor. Yeah, bring on the Book Fair!