When I was about 13—a homeschooled teen desperate for any escape—I thought babysitting my cousin’s little one would be a fun chance to earn some cash. In reality, it turned into my unpaid weekend chore.
Every Saturday, her basement apartment was a war zone of grime: dirty dishes piled high, pizza boxes strewn everywhere. But there I was, wiping counters and washing plates before I could even think about cooking for the kid.
This became our unspoken routine—me playing unpaid maid, babysitter, cleaner for months.
One weekend, feeling sick and refusing to go—my dad demanded an explanation. I confessed the ordeal; his eyes narrowed. Then he smiled: “Okay, tonight you go over as usual. But when it’s time to cook, walk next door to your aunt and ask for a pot and some clean plates.”
It worked exactly as planned. I knocked on her door, held out my case—and never got asked to babysit again. Sometimes, the best lessons come wrapped in subtle rebellion rather than confrontation.
