Oh the mundane jobs that have to be done; beds to be made, shirts that need ironing, the endless dishes that never seem to be done. When my kids were young I did it all. I had to. The fairy-mommy who magically picked up after me in the house I grew up in didn’t follow me into my married life. But as my children have gotten older, I’ve pushed more and more of those awful jobs onto them. I figure I’m teaching them the value of work, so no, I don’t feel bad. There will be no fairy-mommy for them either when they move out.

The latest of those evil jobs has been the kitty litter box. Nobody wants to do it, and each of them swears they were the one who cleaned the litter box last. But this last week, rather than fight with me, my oldest took a new approach when I told him to take care of the litter box.

He sighed, slumping his shoulders like he was being sent to an executioner, but then said, “I’ll go find my sister.”

I laughed at his pass-the-buck approach, and laughed even harder when his sister told him, “No.”

He hasn’t figured out yet that these kinds of jobs you don’t get out of until you have children of your own. 🙂