4 Years Old and Debt Free

When my son was born, he came into this world debt-free.

He doesn’t owe me anything.

It doesn’t matter that he lived rent-free in my womb for nine months and one week, or that it took 46 agonizing hours to evict him.

It doesn’t matter that I’ve given nearly every waking moment of the last four years to him, lost sleep for him, cleaned up his puke, pee, poop, and so, so many spills. It doesn’t matter how many meals I cook, how often I wash his clothes, or how many appointments I drive him to.

He owes me nothing.

No matter how much money I spend on him, or how many toys I buy him, or how many times I take him to the zoo, or how many tickets I buy at the amusement park, or how many cake pops he eats before we leave the Starbucks parking lot.

It doesn’t matter if it costs a fortune to put him through school or buy him his first car or help him get his first apartment or fund a backpacking trip through Europe.

He owes me nothing.

It doesn’t matter if I live to be a hundred and Graham is a man in his sixties; no matter how much money has gone into raising him, or how much time I’ve spent loving him, or how much of my heart I’ve gladly signed over to the little man who brings me so much joy.

My son owes me nothing.

At the same time, I hope I’m raising a child who is gracious and appreciative and loving and kind.

I hope that I’m raising a boy who will respect himself and others, while having the sense of self not to compromise his own integrity to live up to anyone else’s idea of what that means.

I hope that he trusts us to guide him and learns to ultimately trust himself.

All or none of these things may be true, and at the end of it all, MY SON OWES ME NOTHING.

And as a four year old child still trying to find his place in the world, he doesn’t owe anyone else anything either.