I Forgot to Leave Lunch Money for My Son, but He Said, ‘Don’t Worry, Mom. I’ll Look in the Cereal Box Where Dad Hides It’

The morning had already gone sideways before I set foot outside the house.

I mean, I’d been up before the sun, my head still heavy from lack of sleep. Running the morning shift as head baker was exhausting enough, but with my second job later that day, I was barely holding it together.

All I could think about was the massive checklist ahead of the day: bills, groceries, laundry, breakfast, and more. But it wasn’t until I was halfway through shaping dough that it hit me.

I’d forgotten to leave lunch money for my son, Caleb.

I swore under my breath and wiped the flour off my hands, fumbling for my phone. Of course, just as I grabbed it, the screen lit up with a text from Caleb.

Mom, no lunch money?

My stomach sank immediately.

“Hey, Mom,” Caleb’s voice was soft, too soft for a twelve-year-old who should be worrying about his favorite video game, not lunch money. “I did text you. There’s no money for lunch today.”

I leaned against the counter, guilt hitting me. I already felt so bad that I didn’t get a chance to make Caleb homemade meals for lunch, making him get cafeteria food instead. I’d been forgetting things more and more lately, barely keeping up with everything.

“Caleb, I’m so sorry, sweetheart,” I said. “I completely forgot. I just wanted to get the laundry done before I had to leave.”

Lately, it felt like everything was slipping through the cracks. Especially the things that mattered most. I wanted to cry over the batch of babka I was making.

“It’s okay, Mom!” Caleb said in a calm voice. “I’ll just check the cereal box where Dad keeps money. I don’t need much anyway.”

I froze.

“What?” I asked.

“You know, the cereal box,” he repeated. “The Cheerios? Dad keeps money there sometimes. Sometimes inside the box, sometimes underneath.”

For a second, I didn’t know how to respond. My husband, hiding money? I almost asked Caleb to explain, but I didn’t want to open a can of worms. Not before Caleb had an entire day of school to get through.

“Right,” I said. “Well, you do that! And I’ll see you later, sweetheart. Love you!”

“Okay, love you!” Caleb chirped before hanging up, leaving me standing at the back of the bakery, mind spinning.

A cereal box with money in it? In my pantry? Why?

I could barely get through the rest of my shift. My hands moved on autopilot as I pulled loaves from the oven, but my mind was racing.

How long had Marcus been hiding money? And why? We were scraping by, every dollar carefully counted. I had gotten Caleb his new pair of sneakers from a discount store because Marcus said that we didn’t have enough money to spend.

We were behind on bills, the car needed repairs, and I was working two jobs just to keep us afloat. I was head baker at the bakery, and when the majority of my load was over, I went over to the 24-hour deli across the road and made all their sandwiches.

It was killing me. My back ached more than it ever did during my pregnancy.

How could Marcus stash money away like this and not tell me?

The bakery was empty by the time I finished my shift, and I headed to the deli, still reeling from what Caleb had said. All I could think about was the envelope tucked away in a cereal box, and why I’d had no idea it existed.

When I finally made it home later that evening, I didn’t even bother taking off my shoes. I went straight to the pantry, my heart pounding. Sure enough, there it was. An envelope, tucked beneath the box of Cheerios.

I pulled it out with trembling hands.

Inside was more cash than I’d seen in months. Hundreds, maybe more.

It wasn’t just Caleb’s lunch money fund when I forgot about it. No, it was enough to cover our car repair, the rent, and probably even some of our bills.

I looked at the stack of cash, trying to process it all.

Marcus had been sitting on this, while I was breaking my back working twelve-hour days, thinking we were on the verge of drowning.

I could have shouted for Marcus, but I heard him on the phone in the study. It sounded like he was on a meeting, and I didn’t want to disturb him.

Instead, I pulled out a few pieces of hake and threw some broccoli and tomatoes onto a baking tray. I needed to feed my son.

Dinner that night was tense. I could barely look at my husband without my blood boiling, but I didn’t confront him.

Not yet.

I needed to see how far he’d take this.

So, I kept my voice steady as I brought up the car.

“We need to get the transmission looked at, Marcus,” I said. “It’s only going to get worse.”

Marcus didn’t even glance up from his plate. Instead, he poured hot sauce over his fish.

“We’ll have to wait, Jess,” he said. “We don’t have the money right now.”

I stared at him, frozen mid-air. He said it so easily, so naturally, like the stash in the cereal box didn’t exist, like he really believed it. Something inside me snapped.

The next morning, after my shift at the bakery, I did something I’d never imagined doing.

I called up a luxury spa and booked an appointment. A full makeover. Hair, nails, massage, the works. It was reckless, impulsive, and probably so irresponsible, but I didn’t care.

The money was there, and I was going to spend it.

The whole day felt surreal.

As the stylist worked on my hair, I thought about the envelope, about the sleepless nights I’d spent worrying about bills while kneading dough before dawn, and about the constant ache in my back.

And there was Marcus, calmly pretending we had nothing, sitting on enough cash to just calm our struggles.

When I got home, I barely recognized myself.

My hair was styled into soft waves, my nails painted a deep, rich red. I looked like someone who had it all together, someone who wasn’t clawing her way through every day.

Marcus walked in the door, his eyes going wide as soon as he saw me.

“What did you do?” he asked.

“I found the money in the cereal box,” I said. “I deserved a day to myself.”

The color drained from his face.

“You shouldn’t have spent that. It wasn’t meant for… for this.”

I felt the anger rise again.

“Then what was it for, Marcus? Because I’ve been working myself to death, thinking we’re barely getting by, while you’ve been hoarding cash like some kind of secret stash that I’ve had no idea about.”

“Jess, I wasn’t trying to hide it from you. I just… I didn’t want you to worry.”

“Worry about what?” I demanded. “That is all I do! I worry all the time. About everything!”

He sank into a chair, rubbing his face.

“My boss… he hinted there might be layoffs soon. I wanted to have something set aside, just in case. I didn’t want to talk about something that might not even happen.”

“So, you lied to me?”

“I didn’t lie,” he said. “I just didn’t tell you.”

Marcus and I had always been honest with each other. At least, I thought we had. I took a deep breath, trying to calm down. But I was hurt.

Well and truly hurt.

He looked up at me, his expression softening.

“We’re supposed to be open and honest, Marcus. You should have trusted me enough to tell me the truth.”

“You’re right,” he said. “I’m sorry.”

“Do you even realize what this looks like? I’m over here thinking we’re broke, working two jobs while you’re hiding money for some hypothetical future disaster? How could you not tell me?”

“I didn’t want to make things worse,” he said, shaking his head. “I thought keeping it to myself would be easier.”

“You thought this was easier, Marcus?” I thundered.

He didn’t say anything.

“And what if you lost your job tomorrow, huh? What then? Were you planning to pull out your secret stash and say, ‘Oh hey, by the way, I’ve been saving this all along’?”

“No… I mean, yes. Maybe. I don’t know. I just wanted to protect you.”

“You don’t protect me by keeping me in the dark, Marcus.”

I could see that my words had sunk in a little bit. But I wasn’t sure if Marcus had actually gotten it.

I wasn’t sure he had understood how all of this had made me feel.

“We’re a team, Marcus. Or aren’t we?” I asked.

“We are, Jess,” he said. “I promise we are.”

We sat there for a moment, the weight of everything hanging in the air. Slowly, I started to calm down. Marcus had messed up, but I could see that he genuinely hadn’t meant to hurt me. But I was hurt nonetheless.

Still, we had a long way to go before the trust fully healed.

The next morning, I promised him I wouldn’t raid any more cereal boxes without asking, and he swore there’d be no more secret stashes.

We might be struggling, but at least we were facing it together now.

Right?

What would you have done?

If you’ve enjoyed this story, here’s another one for you |

I Noticed That Money Was Disappearing from Our Family Stash — I Was Shocked When I Found Out Who Was Taking It

Judy and her family get into the habit of saving money in a “family stash jar,” which is used for emergencies or family outings. But soon, she starts noticing that someone in the family has sticky fingers, helping themselves to the money. Judy has to figure out who it is and what is the reason for such dishonesty.

I’m sure that it’s the same for most families. But in our family, honesty is the foundation of everything. I’ve always trusted my husband, Ethan, my 24-year-old son, Josh, and my 17-year-old daughter, Emma, implicitly.

So, when money started disappearing from our family stash, it felt like a punch to the gut. We’d always kept a communal jar of cash for emergencies or spontaneous outings, but lately, large sums had been vanishing without explanation.

“I must be losing my mind,” I said out loud to myself when I noticed that the jar looked a little different from when I had last put in some money.

At first, I thought that it was a simple miscalculation.

Read the full story here.

This work is inspired by real events and people, but it has been fictionalized for creative purposes. Names, characters, and details have been changed to protect privacy and enhance the narrative. Any resemblance to actual persons, living or dead, or actual events is purely coincidental and not intended by the author.

The author and publisher make no claims to the accuracy of events or the portrayal of characters and are not liable for any misinterpretation. This story is provided “as is,” and any opinions expressed are those of the characters and do not reflect the views of the author or publisher.