Saturday, January 17, 2015


Do you remember last month, when I talked about Morgan's struggle to clean up after herself (it shouldn't be hard, I tragically only posted once in December)? Well, she took that little life lesson very seriously, maybe a little too seriously.

After returning to school following Christmas break, Morgan's class spent some time working on their New Year's resolutions. Morgan crafted three resolutions, one of which included a commitment to "quit blurting out in class so much" - good luck with that one, kiddo. I have been working on that for more than 30 years. When I was in the 4th grade, Mrs. Robinson made me go sit in the hall under the drinking fountain because I wouldn't stop volunteering for acts in the talent show. And when I was in the 5th grade, Mrs. Brady wrote in my report card, "Amy needs to learn to sit quietly."  Still haven't mastered that one.

As I thumbed through the rest of Morgan's list of resolutions, this little guy caught my eye:
It would appear that my child actually took to heart that cleaning her room is her responsibility. But as we all know, New Year's resolutions are easily broken. There is a reason I can't find parking at the gym in January but have my pick of the lot by mid-March.

Despite my skepticism, I sent Morgan to her room last weekend to get her toys picked up and organized. I was immersed in my own housekeeping endeavors and quickly lost track in time. When I finally realized I hadn't heard a peep from her, I called out her name. No response. I called a little louder. Still nothing. I decided to investigate.

I cracked open her bedroom door, where I immediately encountered this:

Not sure what you're staring at? Look closely, My daughter has turned her jump rope into a leash, literally tethering herself to her stool by the ankle.

"So, uh, whatcha got going on in here?"

"I'm just cleaning my room, Mom." Total blank stare, as if she actually didn't know what I was asking.

"No, what's the situation with your jump rope?" I pointed casually to the slightly disturbing and bizarre scene before me.

"Oh, that? I was having a really hard time staying focused so I decided to just tie myself to my stool. That way, every time I want to go play, I can't. I have to stay right here until I finish."

They say kids learn by example, but Morgan conjured this up all on her own. However, it did indeed work like a charm. So much so that I am considering tying David to his work bench.

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