The Grouch Knows How to Use a Vacuum?

Ah, kids and chores. The age-old dilemma designed to make a parent gouge her eyes and wail like a Banshee.

Every professional kid-advice person has weighed in on this issue. I’ve read them all. Everything works, some of the time. Which translates: nothing works, most of the time.

You could pay kids for chores. I think that sends the wrong message. Once your kids reach teenagerhood, they get JOBS. Then they don’t need your chump change. Suddenly, no one’s taking out the garbage.

You could make a rotating chore roster. Pros: everyone knows what they’re supposed to be doing. Downside: making the damn roster takes longer than doing the blasted chores yourself.

I prefer the “McDonald’s” approach, otherwise known as “First come, First Served.” It’s clean and simple. It works like this:

When there’s a chore to be done, you grab the first boy who wanders through, and make it his job. If he complains, he gets the next five chores, absolutely FREE!

See how this works?

There’s an extra bonus in this method for Mom Sanity.

The first child who asks you, “What’s for Dinner?” becomes soux chef of the day. The next one gets to wash the dishes. On a good day, you get to cook in peace.

The child who makes the biggest mess at the table gets wiping duty. The last kid to stuff a completely inflated milk container into an overflowing trash can gets to take out the trash.

I have used this method effectively for many years. Not once, however, have I seen the Grouch with a vacuum in his hands (We have hardwoods. Usually, they get swept. Now I have a robot, who does not complain ONE BIT when I ask him to sweep the floors. Cool, huh?).

So, when the Grouch picked up the vacuum today, I was convinced I was hallucinating. I wasn’t even sure he knew how to turn it on. He took it to his room, vacuumed his DESK, and returned it to its favorite sunning position in the middle of the back hallway.

What possessed him to remove the dust-bunnies from their breeding grounds I will probably never know. But at least I know that my future daughter-in-law can never accuse me of having kept the secret of the vacuum to myself. I think it’s very important to stay on my potential daughter-in-law’s good side—especially since my son’s current taste in women tends toward hot babes in leather who wield pole-axes. Lucky for me, they still live in his computer.

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