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ANTHONY (age 5)
i've got a new chore.
TROY
yeah. what is that?
ANTHONY
rubbing your back with that thing you like.
TROY
oh. ok.
ANTHONY
and then you'll give me a allowance.
TROY
i see.
ANTHONY
i need more chores because i'm saving to buy something.
TROY
yeah. what's that?
ANTHONY
a house. for when i leave here. so i have a place to live.
this is how it began. good to his word, later that day he appeared before me with the wooden back-massager in hand and said it was time for my scratch. in full need of a twenty minute nap anyway, i readily obliged and took my place on the bed face down. anthony positioned himself by my side and began running the four wooden balls up and down the length of my back. having been the recipient of many a child's back-scratch, my expectation was this would continue for less than two minutes and he would announce he was tired and move to his next distraction. instead, he drove the object around my back for at least three minutes. then i sensed a shift and waited for the "i'm done, this is boring" proclamation but it didn't come. the movement was just so he could switch hands. another three minutes. another shift. this third shift had moved to both hands and he was over me like someone doing chest compressions.
the next thing i recall he was pushing my shoulder and whispering in my ear that my scratch was over and could he have his allowance. i barely managed to ask if i could pay him after my nap. he said sure and scampered off the bed and i went back to the meadows in my brain.
if anthony's new scramble for money encroaches on any child-labor laws i might have a problem on my hands because while i've yet to ask him for one of his dollar scratches, i've yet to turn one down once offered.
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