The Great Chore Trade

On the kitchen wall there was a paper chart. It listed every chore in the house. Quinn washed the dishes. Her brother Rafi took out the trash. That was the rule for the whole month.

On Tuesday, Rafi came home from school with a plan. He stood in front of the chart. He rubbed his chin. He was twelve, and he thought he was a businessman. "Quinn," he said.

"I want to trade."

"Trade what?" she asked. She was fourteen. She sat at the table with her phone.

"Chores," said Rafi.

"I wash the dishes. You take out the trash."

"Why?" she said.

"I like water," said Rafi.

"It is calm." Quinn looked at him for a long time.

"You hate water," she said.

"You wash your hands in two seconds."

"I changed," said Rafi.

"No."

"I give you a cookie," he said.

"I do not want your cookie."

"Two cookies." Quinn put down her phone. She thought about the trash. It was heavy and it smelled bad. The big bins were far from the door. In winter, the walk was cold and dark. The dishes were warm and easy.

"Three cookies and one week," she said.

"Deal," said Rafi. They shook hands. For one week, Quinn took out the trash. She did not like it. On Friday, a cat jumped out of the bin. Quinn shouted. Rafi washed the dishes, but he did it badly. The plates still had food on them. Their mother said nothing. She looked at the chart. She raised her eyebrows.

On Monday, Rafi was tired of the dishes. His hands were red. He found Quinn in her room. "I want to trade back," he said.

"I do not," said Quinn.

"I like the trash now."

"You said the cat scared you."

"I met the cat. We are friends."

Rafi was angry for a minute. Then he smiled. "Okay. I give you half of my game time."

"All of it," said Quinn.

"Two days of it," said Rafi.

"Three days," said Quinn.

"And you wash my cup too."

Rafi groaned, but he agreed. They shook hands again. Quinn went back to the dishes. Rafi took out the trash. Quinn also wanted her cookies back. Rafi brought them. They were a little old.

The next day, Rafi wanted more trades. He wanted to trade the floor and the plants too. Quinn had her own ideas. Soon they had a long list. It was on an envelope. One chore cost a snack. Another cost a favor. A third cost a funny story.

By Thursday, the list was very long. Nobody could remember who did what. Quinn washed the floor, but Rafi paid her in cookies. Rafi watered the plants. Quinn paid him in game time. Their mother came home and found the kitchen floor wet. She looked at the chart. It still said: Quinn, dishes. Rafi, trash.

"Why is the floor wet?" she asked.

"I washed it," said Quinn.

"Why?"

"Rafi pays me in cookies."

"And who took out the trash?"

"Me," said Rafi.

"But Quinn pays me with her phone time." Their mother put down her bag. She took a pen from the shelf. She looked at them for a long time.

"So," she said.

"You trade chores. You trade cookies. You trade game time. And in the end, who works more?" Quinn and Rafi looked at each other. They did a quick count in their heads. Then they looked at the long list on the envelope. Nobody spoke.

"I think we both work more," said Rafi at last.

"And we both have less cookies," said Quinn.

"Fewer," said their mother.

"Fewer cookies." She picked up the envelope and tore it in half. Then she wrote the old rules again. She used a big black pen. Quinn: dishes. Rafi: trash. She put the chart back on the wall.

Rafi looked at it sadly. "I miss the business," he said.

"Next month," said their mother, "you can trade."

"Really?" said Quinn.

"No," said their mother.

"Dinner is at six. Wash your hands."