Not Cashing In the Coupon Book

Many years ago when I visited my parents' house, I discovered a small coupon book that I must have made for my mother when I was a child.  In printed handwriting I didn't recognize as my own, I had offered my services to fold laundry, do dishes, vacuum the family room, and take out the trash.  From the looks of the booklet, my mom never had cashed in her coupons.

Back then, I didn't understand this.  Surely, she would have appreciated if my seven-year-old self had pitched in with a few extra household chores, right?

In my current stage of life, however, I've now received a few coupon books on Mother's Day like the one I once made, but I doubt that I'll ever cash in my own children's coupons, either.

These books document heartfelt and helpful intentions, even if they're misaligned and stapled crookedly.  They capture a time when my kids can't spell the word table, yet they confidently proclaim that I'm the World's Greatest Mom.

Obviously, this tender phase won't last forever.  (I mean, the World's Greatest Mom title clearly will stick, but at some point these kids are going to have to learn to spell.)

Mom, I get it now.  Years later, I understand not cashing in the coupon book.

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