Chip in for a trip

No, I don't want you to buy me LSD. I mean trip in its literal sense.

"Dad, when can we go to America again?" The kids asked me that before we'd even left the USA. They like it there.

"Not for a while. Do you think money grows on trees?" (Not very original, I know)

"Well, actually . . . "

"I didn't mean that literally, Lexie."

It was deal time. If they (the kids) can raise enough dosh, it'll be USA here we come again.

Being kids, they've limited opportunities to earn money in a legal way. Books is the obvious one. Given the generous, but foolish, deal I struck with Andrew over books. To be fair, he keeps coming up with new book ideas. Like the new Toilet Paper Series.

Begging. Andrew thought that was worth a try. "What have we got to lose, Andrew?" "Our self-respect, dad, our self-respect."

Lost that years ago, self-respect. In a layby on the old A1.


That's why begging buttons have appeared. Annoyingly prominently, I hope.

Tears. They've been shed. Most mine when Lexie was a bit careless with his knee. Mustn't want any more brothers.

"We'll see how it goes, Andrew." That's dadspeak for "no way we'll get serious moolah from that".

Prove me wrong.