"I'll just sell the Sportster," I argue weakly, the same argument we'd been having for weeks on the lead up to Sienna's third birthday.

We're a little tight for cash right now. Between rent, utilities, clothes that Sienna seems to grow out of every month or so, and everything else, we're on a tight budget for Sienna's birthday. It's the same disagreement everytime, because calling it an argument is a bit of a stretch. I offer to sell the motorcycle my grandfather had left me and I'd spent years taking it apart, refurbishing it piece by peice, and you'd say no, that we'd get by like we always do.

I'm a mechanic, working 50 hour weeks and coming home covered in grease stains. You work part time at a coffee shop, early mornings on the days that Sienna has nursery. It's a fine balance between getting enough money for bills and not having to pay and arm and a leg for childcare - if you worked full time, we'd end up paying that much in childcare costs that we'd be worse off. In what world does that make sense?!

"I keep telling you, no," you reply, you hands moving without thinking on the crochet teddy bear you're making for Sienna, "it means too much to you, Harry. You've worked too hard on it."

"I could get like five grand for it," I reason, running a hand through my hair, "we could catch up on bills, put money away for christmas, give Sienna a big birthday party."

Our Sienna, sleeping soundly down the hall an early night for her special day tomorrow, was born when we were just 19. Already living paycheck to paycheck, in our tiny two bed flat that's furnished with mismatched furniature and appliances we'd gotten from charity shops and hand downs from family. Now with the addition of toys and dolls scattered around the floor, finger paintings hanging on the fridge, and the sound of little feet running over the cheap floors. No matter how tight money is, we always make sure Sienna has everythign she needs, everything else comes second.

"She's going to have a special day anyway," you reply, hands working meticulously to get the bear finished in time, "Mrs Nelson down the corridor helped me learn how to crochet to make the teddy, we got enough money to buy the doll and pushchair she wants, the cake is almost done, and we'll get the pillow fort made before she wakes up."

I sigh softly, sitting down next to you on the couch. "I know, Love, but I could sell it and we'd be alright for a while."

I know you're going to say 'we're always alright', and I don't really want to sell the bike, I'd put my blood, sweat and tears into it and my grandfather had left it to me, but I will if it makes things easier for us.