Dear child,
At just eight years old, you may not fully grasp the significance of your words, particularly the ones you directed at me recently. When I expressed my displeasure at your fork scraping across the surface of my cherished kitchen table, you responded with, “Why do you always call it ‘your’ kitchen table? Daddy bought it. He buys everything because he’s the one who works.”
It’s understandable that you perceive your father as the primary provider; after all, he is the one who brings in the bulk of our household income. As a work-from-home parent, my contributions may seem less tangible. While I do handle various responsibilities—from cooking to cleaning—your father indeed plays a significant role in our financial stability. However, there’s more to this table than just its price tag or where the money came from.
One day, we will discuss the concept of shared assets and the value of all the work I perform in our home. But today, let me explain why the kitchen table is mine—not your father’s, not yours, and not even a shared family possession.
This table is mine because I discovered it on Craigslist and instantly fell in love with its beautiful craftsmanship. I spent months searching for the perfect piece, only to find this one, which was a fraction of the price of a similar model at a retail store.
It’s mine because I arranged for your uncle’s truck to pick it up and refueled it afterward. I physically lifted it, maneuvering its weight through our home and carefully placing it in our kitchen.
This table is mine because I lay down protective coverings so you and your sister can create art without fear of damage. I prepare our meals on its surface, select the quirky chairs that surround it, and clean up after you both when you forget to use the protective sheets. I sweep and mop beneath it, maintaining its presence in our home.
Most importantly, it’s mine because I deserve to have something in this house that is solely my own—something that is not subject to careless handling or thoughtless actions, such as dragging a fork across its surface. This table symbolizes much more than a mere piece of furniture; it represents the care and effort I invest in our family, much like motherhood itself.
The fact that your father’s earnings contributed to this purchase does not diminish my ownership or its significance. This lovely table is a small oasis of beauty in our home, and it belongs to me.
And if you still question my claim over it, remember this: Because I said so.
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In summary, the kitchen table serves as a personal sanctuary for me, representing my efforts and dedication to our family. It is a cherished item that I take pride in, and it stands as a metaphor for the love and care that goes into our home life.