“Mumma, Ma-Door gets pocket money every week.” Hama said sitting on his bunk bed.
“Hmm.” Mumma replied as she continued to pick up his toys. “But why do you need pocket money? We are there when you need something.”
“But…Mumma…Ma-Door…” Hama scratched his head. What his mother had just said was true. He didn’t really need the pocket money. And yet, it would have been good if he did.
“Hama…” Mumma stopped picking up the toys to stand up. Doing all the household chores all day, day after day, sometimes did take a toll on her back pain. Especially when she was down with a bad bout of cold. “You do know that money doesn’t grow on trees, right?”
The little boy laughed. “Yes…but that would have been so much fun Mumma!”
She smiled. “So…if you want pocket money then there’s just one way to get it. You will have to earn it. Because neither your father and nor I will give it to you for free.”
“Earn?” Hama asked as he turned about to climb down from the bunk. “But I’m only six. You are joking Mumma.”