Yesterday I did a chore that I hate. But I really like the end result. The knowledge that all is as it should be.
Helping one of my children to clean their bedroom. That they messed up. By themselves. Deep breath. Look I know it is their bedroom but they offend my sense of order, of logic, of placement.
I was helping Master T. I set the clock for 1 hour and cajoled and coerced Master T to focus. I was treated to a full hour of LMFAO singing. I like the job done but finding the rubbish stuffed into corners or finding the Lego in all places except the Official Lego Box, makes my brow furrow. Finding ironing stuffed in drawers or school shorts chucked in the top of the wardrobe has me deep breathing to keep calm. I did find interesting things too like 3 pairs of good shorts with the elastic stripped out to make a bow and arrow a la Bear Grylls style. Inventive.
I am the sort of girl who, if you are looking for something, can yell out "third drawer on the right and to the back". How have I bred children without the same sense of order? Even a little? Look in know they are kids but to have such tantrums that they rooms are too messy to tidy when they messed them? I don't get it.
We sorted Master T's clothes too. I like that bit. At 12 years old he is still wearing size 8 shorts so we didn't need to reallocate much, except for the vast quantities he has literally worn out. We put a mountain of clothes in the washing with the promise that Master T is going to wash, hang out, fold and iron them and perhaps develop a little appreciation for the person who usually does it and become every so much more committed to putting the clothes away properly the first time.
Hmmm, we will see.
So, job done with Master T, now just Miss T to go. Might need to build up my stores of patience for that one
Ciao for now
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