We had a family meeting last week. Otherwise known as “Mom has had it up to here. Again.”
We sat down around the dinner table with a list I had hurriedly scribbled of all the things that need to be done to keep our household running, things like cooking dinner, laundry, watering plants, driving to piano lessons, and vacuuming. The list was long, my friends. The pencil lines were etched deep into the surface.
I pointed out that Dad and I did most of these things and it was time that the girls contributed. A slightly overwrought person might say I brandished the list. The girls were sweet as pie and eager to help. Or perhaps they had heard it all before and were just going to wait it out.
I created a chore bucket for each of them that was filled with slips of paper on which were written the chore and the day it is to take place. “Water the lemon tree Mon, Thur” “Brush the cat daily” They were told to check their buckets every day.
Theoretically, this should make my life easier. The law has been laid down and the citizens will obey. Peace has been restored.
There were to be grave consequences for slacking off. Things like No Dessert and No Watching Spring Wipeout on Thursday Nights. And yet here I sit on Thursday night, less than two weeks later, while the girls and their dad are laughing it up as people get whacked and whiplashed into the water.