Summer, thy name is whining. And bickering. I think I'll have to refresh my memory on how to amuse these kids by reading this post.
Things are back to normal with Anna. I never mentioned that, in her hurry to catch her plane last month, her room was left looking as if a tornado had torn through it. When she got back, I told her to clean it up. She looked exasperated each time I pointed out that her room still needed attention. Who cares if there's trash on the floor, clothes everywhere, and dust bunnies the size of a schnauzer under the bed? I mean, she already picked some stuff up yesterday. She's busy. Is it her fault there's still more to do?
Well, I'm happy to announce that today it got all cleaned up. You can eat off her floor (although I wouldn't advise it). Was it the end of the jetlag? A sudden flash of empathy and appreciation for her devoted mother? Perhaps, even, a new-found desire not to live in a dump?
Ha, ha, ha - you mothers of teens know that the answer is "none of the above." This morning I threatened to take her door away if the room weren't spotless. Sometimes a little motivation works wonders.
Okay, Susie is sitting on the couch, singing forlornly to herself. And the other kids are banging on the (locked) door and demanding popsicles. Time to get back to work...
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