Our youngest daughter, Rachel, is a strong-willed child. That can be a somewhat nice way to say she can be "disobedient." You know - on occasion. Yesterday afternoon, by chance, Rachel and I had the afternoon to ourselves. Rebecca (the elder) was out doing some important work on the economy at the mall, and Dianne was at a rehearsal for the musical "High Society."
While there were definitely things around the house that I really wanted to get done, I also had plans to hit the bicycle trail with Rachel. Oh, and I also needed a brief nap.
I set my alarm for about a 40 minute nap.
Unfortunately, between Rachel singing impromptu versions of various musicals, playing YouTube at full blast, or my cat pawing at my face, I didn't get much of a nap. Irritated, I decided WE were going to get some work done before there was any bike riding. I knew that if I wasn't watching that kid closely, she'd CREATE additional work for me, while I was getting the things done that I was wanting to accomplish. So, Rachel was going to be helping me.
I told her to get some clothes on suitable for working outside, and I changed as well.
When we went out, she said "I thought we were going on a bike ride?" "We might", I said, "but only after we get some things done that I need to get done."
"What are we going to do?" she asked.
"Well," I said, "we're going to cut up these branches in the driveway (leftover from a Mulberry bush trimming), dump these old hanging plants into the yard waste, recycle the baskets, clean out the trash can and yard waste area, rake all the twigs and leaves out of the gravel driveway, and then get all the pots we've been collecting out of the garage, and sort them for recycling.
She looked horrified.
"What's the matter?", I asked her, "it will be fun!"
She groaned and slowly trudged down the back stairs. Clearly, she didn't believe me. "Work", you see, was something that was done when your parents were mad at you. Probably all too frequently, we DO add chores when the kids are misbehaving. While probably a good thing overall, I do wonder if it makes them equate work with punishment. Which WOULDN'T be a good thing.
Well, it was hard keeping her on task, which extended the time the work took by a significant amount, but she did try her hand at cutting up the Mulberry branches with the tree saw, but found that too hard, and she filled a bunch of yard waste containers with the branches I cut up, as well as the general yard debris that had collected in that area of the driveway and trash can area.
Finally, we got to the pot sorting project. We have been saving many of our plant pots for years, originally intending to either use the little 6-packs for growing our own seeds (never did), and then to take to the pot recycling at the Missouri Botanical Garden. Somehow, we always missed the cutoff time, probably because we usually continue planting until late in the season.
I had her sorting the containers out in the driveway, while I happily threw all the containers I could find out over my head to her like Yoda going through Luke's supplies in the Dagobah System. My instructions on how to sort them turned out to be too difficult for her, and honestly, it is confusing. The pots are made from so many types of materials, and the garden wants them sorted into different categories. So, I joined in the sorting efforts by container type and plastic type. Pots that were #2 or #5 I stacked neatly together, and Rachel took care of plant trays, misc containers with no plastic type stamped on them, and all the 6-packs.
At one point during the sorting, Rachel burst out with "I never knew sorting these pots could be so much..." and then fell silent. Was she just admitting that she was having fun? I think she was! So I asked her what she was saying. "Nothing," came the hurried reply. I pressed on...finally she admitted that yes, she was going to say how much fun WORKING on the driveway and the pots was.
Parenting success!
After we were done, and had stacked all of our pots and trays into the van, she had to have Dianne (the beautiful wife) come and see all the work we had done. I am such a good parent!
Well, we never did get out on that bike ride. The slow initial pace of Rachel had pretty much killed that plan, as well as some more "strong-will" during the bathing stage of the evening. But she HAD ultimately worked hard, so I did read to her the next chapter in "The Magician's Nephew" even though it was past her bedtime.
This week, I think I'll teach her about plumbing!