Kids for Hire

What I've learned from watching Disney's Cinderella is that washing your floors on your hand & knees is the best method. Singing while washing, however, does not make it more enjoyable -- nor does it summon birds and mice to my aid.

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Today I was on my hands and knees wiping the bathroom floor because, according to the Cleaning Schedule of my role as Household Sanitation Director (AKA the unpaid maid), this should have happened on Tuesday.

My son walks in, "Can I help?" (Queue the theme song from Chariots of Fire)

Never one to turn down cleaning help and a firm believer that misery deserves company, I hand him a rag, point to the bathroom sink full of soapy water, and put him to work.

I expected -- well what I expected was for him to act like how I did as a kid which was to pretend I didn't see my mom cleaning and walk the other way. But no, he helped me clean the whole floor (which is quite small but nonetheless) and then asked if he could clean the cabinets too ("of course!"). From there we moved to the bedroom floor because I had a captive audience and I was not against exploiting the moment. Plus, they were really dusty.

Capturing this once in a lifetime moment.

 My daughter stayed away for the most part. When she did pop her head in, my son told her, "I have so much work to do!" Believing this to be a party she wasn't invited to, and being a known party crasher even at her tender age of 23 months, she grabbed the nearest thing (a bath towel) and got down on her knees and started to clean too.

Looking at my two pride & joys, I felt just a wee twinge of guilt -- and a lot like Cinderellas Evil step-mother -- but what the hell, my floors are clean and I didn't have to pay bribe anyone to do it.