Ah, a long weekend, a time for relaxation and family bonding. Well, at least that’s what I thought until chaos descended upon my humble abode. It was delightful to spend some quality time with my loved ones and get into the festive spirit by decorating for Christmas. However, my son decided to take advantage of the extra free time and transform his bedroom into a scene straight out of a Tasmanian Devil cartoon. I mean, seriously, it looked like a tornado had paid a visit and decided to redecorate by throwing everything on the floor!
Now, let me tell you, messes like this make my skin crawl. I firmly believe that everything should have its rightful place, a cozy little spot to call home. I’ve preached this mantra to my 6-year-old son countless times, to the point where he can recite it back to me without missing a beat. So, you can imagine my bewilderment when he chooses to defy me and completely ignore my wise words of wisdom. What gives, kid? It’s a mystery I may never solve.
And don’t get me started on his feeble attempts to blame the mess on his innocent 1-year-old sister. Oh, the audacity! Little sis already knows how to tidy up after herself, for crying out loud. So, my dear son, if you’re done playing with one toy, for the love of all that is tidy, put it away before grabbing something else. It’s not rocket science, my boy. Let’s keep the blame game at bay and restore some order to this chaotic kingdom we call home!
So, after a weekend filled with unsuccessful attempts to get my son to tidy up his room, I decided to take a different approach. I simply closed the door and walked away, leaving the mess behind. Little did I know that on Monday night, my husband would finally decide to take notice of the chaotic state of our son’s room. It’s quite amusing, really. I spent the entire weekend nagging about cleaning the house, and suddenly my husband decides to join the party.
He tells our son that he must clean his room when he gets home from school the next day, and there will be no TV until it’s up to “mom clean” standards. It’s hilarious how everyone in the house knows what “mom clean” means, but no one seems to have the motivation to actually do it. Even my husband is guilty of this, until I reach my breaking point and go completely bonkers. That’s when my husband turns to me and declares, “You heard me right, no TV until his room is clean.” And my response? “Good luck!”
Yesterday, my son burst through the front door after school, flung his backpack to the ground, and sprinted towards the bathroom like he was being chased by a herd of elephants. I barely had time to process what was happening before he reappeared, a determined look on his face, and declared, “I need to clean my room so I can watch TV!” However, being the responsible parent that I am, I reminded him that his homework needed to be completed first.
With a sigh, he reluctantly plopped down at the kitchen table and began tackling his math questions. But as he read through the problems, panic started to creep into his voice. He turned to me, his eyes wide with desperation, and pleaded, “Mom, you need to read these questions! I’m running out of time! How many more minutes until Dad gets home?” I couldn’t help but raise an eyebrow at his sudden urgency. I mean, come on, kid, you know how to read! You can figure this out on your own!
However, I couldn’t resist my son’s infectious enthusiasm, and I didn’t want to dampen his spirits by revealing that his father would be working late. So, I decided to play along, assuring him, “Don’t worry, Dad will be home soon. You better hurry up!” With a burst of energy, he hastily stuffed all his finished homework into his backpack and dashed off to his room. Meanwhile, I sat in the living room, entertaining my daughter, eagerly anticipating the outcome of this little charade. Every now and then, my son would emerge from his room, gathering his belongings from various corners of the house, providing me with updates on his progress.
After what felt like an eternity, he finally emerged, triumphantly declaring that he was done. But before I could celebrate his accomplishment, I asked him if he had sorted through all his buckets and put away everything that belonged in the basement. To my surprise, he adamantly told me not to check the buckets. Suspicious, I sent him back to his room for a second attempt. After a few more minutes, he reappeared, this time carrying a box filled with items that he promptly took downstairs. He never returned. Clearly, satisfied with his cleaning efforts, he believed he had earned his TV time.
After feeding my daughter, I ventured into his room. I must admit, I was genuinely impressed with what I saw. However, the most peculiar sight awaited me in the hallway outside his room. My son had meticulously lined up every single pair of shoes he owned, creating a shoe parade. Why, you may ask? Well, your guess is as good as mine. Perhaps his closet failed to provide the logical arrangement he desired. Initially, my instinct was to summon him from the depths of the basement and demand that he promptly stow away his footwear.
However, I paused for a moment and realized that I needed to choose my battles wisely. He had poured his heart and soul into transforming his room and was bursting with pride. He had even taken the time to meticulously arrange his shoes, even if it meant occupying the hallway. And in that moment, my heart swelled with joy. It served as a gentle reminder that as parents, we must carefully select the battles we fight. Not everything will align perfectly with our desires, and that’s perfectly okay. We must allow our children to explore, create, and problem-solve on their own terms, only intervening when absolutely necessary.
