Right now, I am finally relaxing after a seriously stressful day.
It is the last day of our Easter break and I was determined to get something done around the house. Well, at least make the kids do something. Considering the fact that they are the ones that made the mess, it is only fair that they should clean it up. Getting them to actually do the work is like convincing a cat to take a bath. I started off by giving them a time limit and a reward for finishing the job on time—homemade milkshakes.
Apparently, that is not enough motivation to get the job done. Seven and a half hours after the initial deadline, there is still assorted flotsam strewn about the floor and the couches have been pushed together in the center of the room. I have tried everything. I have bargained, pleaded, and given them constant reminders. I have yelled, begged, and threatened to take away all privileges until they turn forty. Nothing worked. The oldest did managed to make some progress in her room so I guess that’s something. The others only managed to get my blood pressure up and make me seriously think that I need to research military school.
At least my ice cream is safe for a while longer.
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