Apr 17, 2020

Back in February when life was normal, my nine-year-old was playing Minecraft with the girl who lives next door and I heard him say:

"Pretend we like to chillax all day."

It makes sense that his idea of make believe is pretending to"chillax". I've made his life pretty difficult. I make him pick up his toys. I make him clean up his bedroom. I'm like a demented prison warden, just heaping on the torture.

It gets worse. I have recently starting making my kids help clean up after dinner. I know. I know. You would never do this. No sane, loving mother would do it. But I have a mean streak a mile wide and they are gonna help me one way or another.

The other night I laid down the law. Harrison had to clear the table, and Colin had to help me load the dishwasher. Don't report me, okay?

Colin had had enough. The tyranny just got to be too much for him. And he rebelled.

Eventually, I was standing at the sink loading the dishwasher all alone, while Colin rode his electric dirt bike through the house, sobbing,  "Why don't I ever get to have any fun? Why don't I ever get to do anything I want to do? Why are you ruining my life?"

And I laughed. As we've already established, I am very heartless. I will have to figure out how to stop ruining his life by allowing him to ride his dirt bike in the house while also NOT doing any work. Really, I've got to make some changes.

I only wish I had a picture of him crying on his motorcycle, but, alas, I do not.