We don’t watch much TV, so when the HD converter we got with our government-issued coupon failed to work, we just set it aside and went on with our lives. But yesterday I caught Ben fiddling with the converter again. I knew what he was thinking: I said I‘d probably buy a replacement converter before the NCAA Tournament begins -- but then that’s what I said about the Olympics. He had to settle for watching highlights of Shaun White's snowboarding run on Youtube.
“Hey Mom,” he said, “what would you give me if I fixed this thing so you don’t have to buy a new one?”
Hasn’t happened, as of this writing, but we did negotiate a fee: four bucks. Ten percent of the replacement cost, about what I‘d be willing to pay if I found one at a garage sale. (I suppose the average 12-year-old would scoff at such a pittance, but then the average 12-year-old probably has had cable TV since birth.)
We’re working on a similar deal with his mattress, which listed to one side. I was planning to buy a new one -- really, I was! -- when he carried his box spring down the stairs the other day and announced he’d solved the problem. Turns out the box spring was deformed, not the mattress. So he‘s been sleeping on that in supreme comfort the last few days, at least compared with his previous discomfort. And it doesn’t sit so low on his bed frame as to be either too inconvenient or too odd-looking. He thinks he can live with it -- especially if he earns a fee for saving me the cost of a new (or even another used) mattress.
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