Madison Hayes and Freeda Powers talk fur babies and fairness.
Dear Fake Life Coaches,
After years of trying, our daughter finally gave birth to a set of adorable twins, Darla and Donny. My husband and I were so excited, we immediately started college funds and modified our will to include the new bundles of joy.
Unfortunately, this caused some unexpected resentment from our forty-year-old son, Ben. We only provided for him and not his babies—an African grey parrot named Arthur and a giant tortoise named Cindy. When I gently pointed out that Arthur and Cindy will never go to college, Ben insisted Arthur wants voice lessons and Cindy needs obedience training. He also keeps harping on the fact that his babies might outlive their human cousins.
Honestly, we love Ben and we’ve done our best to dote on Arthur and Cindy (gifts on their birthdays and Christmas, the occasional awkward hug) but I just can’t bring myself to write a bird and tortoise into the will. How do I get Ben to see Arthur and Cindy are not our responsibility?
Signed, Flustered in Florida
Rip off the maternal band-aid and be straight with Ben. It’s not your fault he chose pets that’ll outlive everyone.
Arthur and Cindy aren’t just pets, Madison. They’re his babies. Ben loves them every bit as much as his sister loves Darla and Donny.
And I love my cats. Merlot and Cabernet have every toy on the market, plus four carpet towers and a self-cleaning litterbox. That doesn’t mean they should be in my parents’ will. I doubt my kids are even in there.
But at least your parents are being fair—all for one or none at all. Flustered is playing favorites.
Flustered is being realistic, especially when it comes to the college funds. Darla and Donny will leave home someday, possibly change the world. A singing bird and well-behaved tortoise will always be pets. Just like your dog. Though Harmony falls more into the angry rat category.
Oh my stars, Madison, I can’t believe you said that. You’re lucky the baby didn’t wake up and hear you.
And you’re lucky I didn’t press charges after that demon spawn shredded my Nike Flyknit.
Harmony attacked your shoe because his feelings were hurt. You yelled at him and called him Turd Breath.
Because he panted in my face and peed on my yoga mat. Never mind. This isn’t about the furry turd. Flustered, it’s your money. Ben doesn’t get to decide how you spend it. If he’s concerned about Arthur and Cindy’s future, he can roll his piece of the inheritance into a trust fund.
But that’s still an uneven split. His sister’s family is getting more.
The humans are getting more.
Babies are babies, Madison.
Can Ben claim them on his taxes?
Um… I’ve been meaning to write my congresswoman about that.
Make a signature line for me. My kids want a two-toed sloth.