Yesterday my kids were home which was wonderful. To commemorate Martin Luther King Jr., I had a dream of my own. It was to clean out the coat closet and various other tidying jobs around the house. We had a planning meeting and I told my children what I expected of them.
Braeden (because he's an oldest and I swear there's a dividing-up-jobs training meeting oldest children attend before they're born) took it upon himself to divide up the jobs. They were shockingly unequal, Braeden having the easiest job by far. He is a natural born swindler and Emma was still bleary eyed from having just woken up and Mark is usually game for anything so they were being duped. I pulled the plug on Braeden's scheme and the jobs were reassigned more equitably and they all quickly finished their assignments.
Why weren't they this much help back when they were home all day every day? It's astonishing how much they can get accomplished now.
I still had intermittent tasks for them. I called them to set the table/empty the dishwasher/move the chairs and rugs so I could quickly sweep the floor before lunch. That "Cups" song was on, you know, the "You're Going to Miss Me When I'm Gone" song? I don't know the correct name. I told Braeden, who was heaving kitchen chairs over the couch instead of walking around it because his arms are long like that, "You're going to miss me when I'm gone. When I'm gone, who will give you work to do?"
Under his breath, Mark said, "His wife."
I guess in Mark's world, that is the natural order of things. Right now I tell him what to do, someday his wife will tell him what to do.
He could do worse.