My Mother, the Trickster

 
My mother. Amy, was a trickster. 
When I was a freshman in college, I had a part time job, but I was always looking for opportunities to make a little extra cash. On a day that I had come home from school, my mother offered to give me $50, if I washed all the windows, inside and out. (That would be like paying me $500 today).
“I found some extra money and I’m feeling generous,” she said.
I got a bucket, some soap and water and some newspapers. I was thrilled that my mother was offering me so much. I made sure that there wasn’t a smudge on any window. They were sparkling clean. I was proud of the job I had done.
After I put all the cleaning stuff away, I went to my mother told her I was done. She beamed a smile and handed me an envelope that had been opened. I removed the contents. It was my last paycheck and pay stub from my former employer, Fiddler’s Three restaurant. The amount was $50. I glared at my mother. “You tricked me. That’s not fair.”

She gave me her impish smile. “Why are you upset? I told you I would give you $50 and I did.”

“But that $50 was already mine.”
“I never said where the $50 came from. I only said that I found some extra money.” And then she laughed.

“You cheated me into washing the windows!” I whined.

“You were happy washing the windows,” she said. "And you are proud of the good job you did."
“That’s when I thought you were paying me fifty dollars.”

“But you have $50 that you didn’t have before you did the windows.”

I knew I wasn’t going to win and I wasn’t going to get any more money. I hated admitting that she was right. I was happy washing the windows and proud of the good job I had done.