After dinner, Alex dropped his plate in the sink and walked away.

When I asked him to wash it, he shot back, “I’m not your slave!”

Taken aback, I tried to explain that pitching in with chores wasn’t servitude; it was part of being a family. But Alex wasn’t having it.

“Unpaid work is basically slavery,” he argued, crossing his arms defiantly.

Before I could respond, my husband stepped in. Calm but firm, he pointed out that Alex enjoyed shelter, food, clothing, and education, all provided by us. “We’re not asking you to pay rent, but we are asking for teamwork,” he said. Still, Alex wasn’t budging. He insisted that if we wanted his help, we’d have to pay him for his “labor.”

Recognizing a teachable moment, my husband asked, “Alright, Alex. How much do you think your chores are worth?”