Hard Labor

The other day the clutter aka LEGOS in our house had reached epic proportions. Proportions that I could no longer stand. Proportions that even a wine glass would not blur into order. They were spilling off the dressers and shelves and over the bedroom carpet and into the hall. And each creation was SPECIAL! And each pile of pieces SYMBOLIZED! something. Or MY! BEST! FRIEND! BUILT! THAT! and I'm saving it for him. And meanwhile the Lego boxes stood empty.
So, this particular morning, there was NO TV! NO GAME CUBE! No breakfast ... much, until those rooms are spotless! Just concentrate on LEGOS and the job will be done.
There was grumbling and exclaiming, but they did it. And, what I find is that if I'm adamant and grumpy enough about a chore and don't let up even the very littlest bit and put on my toughest frown, they will DO that chore and come begging for more.
So, I started throwing out odd jobs they didn't think themselves old enough for each time they came asking for the next thing.
"YOU! Go clean the toilet and YOU! You're tackling the oven."
"The oven? You CLEAN that?"
"The potty is gross, Mom. I'm not touchin' it."
But they did.
So, without any lesson or instructions, which is highly out of character for me, I told The Short One to "grab the vacuum and go do your room."
This is what I learned after I heard a curious set of vacuum noises that only lasted seconds. And then silence. Just little "roarrmmmm, roarrrmmm" STOP noises. Over and over and over.
He would unwrap the cord juuuuust enough to reach the plug. Haul the upright to the visible pieces of filth. ZAP! it right quick by turning on the cleaner, and then turning it off again. Then, he would rewrap the cord and take it to the next piece of detritus (That's a new word for me and I'm fond of it.) He did not mind this tedium. He enjoyed it. And it took him 1.3 hours to vacuum his room and his brother's.
He stopped occasionally for juice. And to tell me what he'd sucked.
This about the vacuum cleaning machine ... "I don't like how it sounds when I turn it," he said.
Neither does the dog, honey.
And I didn't have the heart to tell him there was any other way.