The jacket on the floor
The other day, my eight-year old son came home from school and dumped his backpack, ski pants and jacket on the kitchen floor.
“Ryland, can you please pick up your stuff.”
“Wait, after I eat snacks.”
Okay, so I thought maybe he was so tired and hungry. I’d give him time to rest. I know you must be thinking that I could have just picked them up and hang them myself. I used to do that when my kids were younger. But they are older now and I thought that if I keep cleaning up after them, they wouldn’t learn how to pick up after themselves.
So I gave him snacks and I went back upstairs to resume my work.
Half an hour later, he came to my workstation with his Gameboy Advance in his hand.
“Did you pick up your jacket and ski pants?”
“Oh, I forgot.”
“Can you please go back downstairs and pick them up.”
“Do I have to?”
I saw him make a long face and he turned his back to me grumpily.
I didn’t expect him to come back. But he did after five minutes.
“I’m sorry, mommy.”
“Why? What did you do?”
“I was mad at you.”
“I didn’t even know you were mad at me. Why were you mad at me?”
“Because you wanted me to go downstairs and pick up my stuff.”
“Well, did you pick them up?”
“Then, that’s okay. Come here and give me a big hug.”