Minor kaboom this morning in daughter Hayley’s room—
It seems that her weekly, hours’ long, quasi-efforts at room cleaning have been helped along by a healthy dose of stuff-shoving, as evidenced by a pile of under-bed junk the likes of which has not been seen since I myself hoarded up my own pile of under-bed junk as a kid back in the 1970’s.
Admitting it is the first step, right?
All the clothes, books, dolls, etc, etc, etc from under her bed is now spread out all over the carpet as if TV slob Oscar Madison had been evicted from his apartment. Hayley is on some serious probation, considering that she’d been hearing Mom and Dad’s “no shoving” clause for months and chose to ignore it. Now she has to pay the piper, in the form of skipping one of two super-fun evening activities tonight and getting the job done. Too bad, as her dad and I were planning on dining out alone during one of them (sorry, Craig). Looks like we all lose on this one. Rats.
It’s not the mess so much as the lying that’s getting me, though as I say that, I think it sounds like, “It’s not the heat, as much as the humidity,” or “It’s not so much dropping out of the sky; it’s more the sudden stop when you hit the ground.” It’s both, really, but somehow it’s comforting to prioritize.
I have to say that this issue comes not long after another disturbing encounter. The other day, Jake owed Hayley some money, but didn’t have enough to cover the entire debt. I paid the remainder and said Jake could owe me. Then Hayley said, “It’s better to owe Mom, because she forgets about it.”
My response: “?!?!!?”
You better believe I followed up on that debt, taking a Reese’s peanut butter cup from Jake’s Halloween candy stash in lieu of the 50 cents I was owed. I had his permission, of course, because, hey, someone’s got to be honest around here.