My Teen Son Sold His Guitar to Buy a New Wheelchair for His Classmate – The Next Day, Officers Showed up at Our Door

He nodded. “Mostly.”

“Mostly isn’t a number, David.”

“I asked for $1200. I got $850. But it was enough. I got it through the hospital, and it’s paid for. They’ll call when it’s ready.”

“Mostly isn’t a number, David.”

I closed my eyes.

That guitar had cost more, but not by much. It wasn’t reckless stupidity, and I had to admit he’d thought it through.

“Mom?”

I opened my eyes.

He was watching me carefully, the way he did when he wasn’t sure whether I was about to hug him or ground him.

“Are you mad?”

I looked at him for a long moment. “I am shocked, baby,” I said. “But I am so proud of you. And I’m also mad that you sold something that valuable without telling me first.”

That guitar had cost more.