Now, as anyone who knows me can tell you, I am a slightly neurotic, mildly OCD (okay, CRAZY) clean freak. My disease becomes especially symptomatic when I have guests coming. I like to present a clean house. One with dusted baseboards. And wiped-down ceiling fans. And organized closets. And tile grout scrubbed with a toothbrush - you know, what any normal, sane person would do for fun on a weekday. Chase was all excited to help me clean - which I figured would translate into him either watching me clean or spraying an entire bottle of 409 into the toilet. Being the nice mother that I am, I let him help.
With some surprisingly decent help on his part, Chase and I got the kids' bathroom done (which will be the guest bathroom this weekend). I mentioned in passing that maybe the kids should use my bathroom from now on as theirs was now clean (and I did not want to have to clean it again tomorrow). Chase took my warning VERY seriously and intended for others to do the same.
I came down the hall a few minutes later to find the bathroom blocked off with yellow police tape, warning all trespassers that it was for "imarginsy" use only.
Seeing his eagerness to safeguard his hard work, I now feel confident that I did indeed get the right baby at the hospital seven-and-a-half years ago. He is so much like me.
Hannah, though, made sure to promptly sneak in and use the facilities, despite the obvious warning.
Which provides conclusive proof to me that she truly IS Josh's daughter. (And not the mailman's like we thought.)
13 comments:
Oh, I miss your hyper clean, impeccably organized home. You are the homemaker I am in my dreams. Then I wake up.
My mom loves to make aebleskiver's! MMMmmmm that sounds so good! I can't wait until my kids are older and really enjoy having a clean house too!
You need to capitalize on Chase's talent! I love the crime scene tape.
Nature or nurture? Genetics or good training? Either way he is definitely your son! Meanwhile, in my world, when Lauren was 2 or 3 and I got out the mop she asked, startled "WHAT'S THAT?" (I hasten to add that I had actually used the mop before. I promise. She must have been sleeping or something.
Have a great time with your guests :)
Hahaha! So cute. Can I borrow your son? I have a bathroom that needs to be cleaned. ;-)
i'm glad you've realized which kid belongs to whom...it makes life easier...
OHMYGOSH. I have not even thought of aebelskivers since my mission. Talk about YUM!!
And I wanna come stay at your house sometime! Whenever I go home to my folks' these days, I'm the one who has to do all the cleaning. :-)
i dream of being that clean. i try and i try, but it never quite works. life gets in the way. i don't know how you do it all!
Michael's friend Landon would affectionately refer to aebleskivers as "pancake balls" and would ask me on a weekly basis if he could come over for some. They are fun to make! Maybe if I had called them "peeterskeevers" he would have been able to pronounce it. have fun with your company.
What a loverly sign you have set up there! And what a beautiful blog, too! :) B
I'm lovin' Chase's brain--and his cleaning skills! How funny. I'd probably want to put tape up too after all that hard work. Did he fold the toliet paper in a triangle and put a paper ring across the seat? Ha!
Once upon a time (it was 1981), there was a cute 7½ year old little girl who wasn't exactly CRAZY about cleaning. She (and her brothers) abhorred cleaning so much that her mother had to invent “Cleanupoply,” the “Job Jar” and “cleaning robots” just to get the little girl (and her brothers) to work even for a few minutes. The little girl’s mother even had to resort to giving an M&M for each letter in the name of the cleanup job. This little girl’s bedroom was often closer to a combination of a sanitary landfill and an obstacle course than the place where she could have visions of sugar-plum fairies dancing in her head. The little girl’s mother even occasionally posted “condemned” signs on the little girl’s bedroom door (and her brothers too). It is good to see something positive has come from the mother’s continuous efforts to teach the little girl (and her brothers) how to work. Now that the little girl has children of her own, her house always looks perfect when her mother and father come for a visit. Maybe, something about childbirth triggers neuroses. The children of that little girl are lucky to have such a wonderful mother. Perhaps someday it will all click and the children of that little girl will start keeping their homes clean and pick up after themselves . . . . . . well . . . . . . it could happen (I’ll bet dollars to doughnuts it will).
Who could that crAZy little girl be? I don't think I know her...
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