Walking into my 5-year-old’s room, I gasp, “Young man, this room is a disaster!!”
He takes a look around and smiles almost as if he’s proud of himself. “Yep, it’s pretty bad, huh Mom?”
“Uh, yeah!” I answer, “Let’s get this place cleaned up, shall we.”
Putting his hands on his hips, he lowers his voice an octave (what he calls his ‘work man voice’) and says, “Sorry Ma’am. I can’t do that. I put in an order to Santa Claus for some totes. I can’t clean up this room till I get my delivery.”
“Oh. Well do you think you’ll be getting that delivery before Christmas?”
He shoots me his are-you-an-idiot look and says, “Uh no, Mom. Santa only comes once a year. Remember?”
So I give him my who-do-you-think-you’re-talking-to look and say, “Well if this room isn’t cleaned up by bedtime the Grinch is gonna make a special house call and come take all your toys away. Capiche?”
And THAT, folks, is what they call parenting!