Last week, a thing happened. It occurred right after this blog post when I was already mad and it went a little something like this:
Me: (to The Cuteness & Princess Sassypants) </scary mom voice activate!/> I WANT THIS ROOM CLEAN – AND I MEAN REALLY CLEAN – BY _______ TIME! (I gave them an hour and a half.)
Me: (continuing to talk even though I was sure the girls had checked out and stopped listening by this point.) </scary mom voice re-activate!/> I’M GOING TO CHECK UNDER THE BED, YOUR CLOSET, YOUR TOY BOX – EVERYTHING! AND THERE BETTER NOT BE ANYTHING THERE THAT ISN’T SUPPOSED TO BE!
The Girls: </oh crap.voice activate!/> Yes Ma’am. Followed by *guilty head bow*
Their room was pretty much destroyed. The clothes I had put in their closet all neatly folded had been strewn around on the floor, toys were everywhere accompanied by candy wrappers when they know they’re not supposed to have food, drinks or candy of any sort outside the kitchen. Dirty clothes mixed in with the clean ones, sheets pulled off beds to cover up the dirty clothes, as if I couldn’t see the pile underneath. Numerous balls of stuffing from an enormous – and I do mean ‘enormous’ – *previously* stuffed Saint Bernard were thrown all over every part of the floor from where they had done surgery on Mr. Bernard & forgotten to put his “organs” back in. (I was hoping one of them would become a doctor, but after this I see the sun beginning to dim on that particular career path…)
Now the miraculous thing here comes into play when you take into account the fact that when I get on to the girls about their room and give them a time limit to clean it, they almost never meet it. They would rather stay in their room all day, not doing a thing (& getting their butts popped when I discover their laziness) than to actually clean it and so it takes them nearly the whole weekend to do a 15 minute job unless I go in there on the rampage and/or instruct them moment by moment what to do next. This time, you know what they did? They cleaned it! Just like I said! And in an hour, which is 30 minutes before the time limit that I had actually given them!! I saw them coming in and out of their room with arms full of stuffing (or “organs”, whichever you want to call it) and a little bit of trash and dirty clothes, but when they said they were done, I was skeptical.
– I checked under the bed; clean!
– I checked the closet; the few clothes there weren’t exactly perfectly folded, but they tried so…clean!
– I checked the dresser – the underwear in there were clean so it passed.
– I checked the toy box. Nothing but toys, the big stuffed Saint Bernard and dress up clothes.
Huh…It was a miracle! Here I was thinking that the promise to check everything had scared them into doing things properly and surely I had found a new method to get the desired results from them. Pop their butts with the belt before I tell them to clean and then threaten good results out of them!
It wasn’t until the next day that I realized my mistake. My girls are smart ones, I tell you. A little ways up there, I mentioned the “*previously* stuffed Saint Bernard” that suddenly became miraculously stuffed again even though I saw the girls throwing his “organs” in the kitchen garbage can. I may have cited that there were very few clothes in their closet when there should have been more and apparently they had more trash on their floor than I thought. I discovered this when I found The Cuteness laying on the Saint Bernard and I noticed how positively fat he was for a dog without insides.
Curious. So I asked The Cuteness to get up and sleep on her bed and bent down to pick Saint Fatty up when I noticed a protrusion in his back…Curious again.
So I pulled.
And out came a school uniform shirt. And then another school uniform shirt. And school uniform pants. And trash! And more trash! And dress up clothes! And dirty socks! And Christmas garland! And earmuffs! And a yellow ring we play yard darts with!
It was never-ending the stuff I pulled out of that thing! I’m sure I got at least two complete school uniforms with hat, earmuffs and gloves to go along with it.
Of course I made them rectify that and grounded them for deceiving me, but really – isn’t that a brilliant idea?! They did what I asked (***”clean the room” and when I check “under the bed, the closet, the toy box, there better not be anything in there that isn’t supposed to be!”***) without really doing what I asked at all and I think that is quite an accomplishment. They’ve got a talent for slacking, I guess. I don’t know whether to be proud or ashamed. And again, I just have to run it into the ground how intelligent I think this really was on their part because I checked the closet, I checked under the bed, I checked the dresser and I checked the toy box; who would have thought to check the actual toy?!
This one is going in the scrapbook girls and your husbands, when you get old and decrepit enough to have such things, will be sufficiently warned of your skills for deception.
Now, can I borrow Mr. Fatty when I clean my room?