Chapter 13 - CHORES
At home, Osric stopped helping.
Anything.
“Put cup in sink?”
“No!”
“Shoes by door?”
“No!”
“Can you help carry towels?”
“I’m not servant!”
Understandable.
Unsustainable.
Maya helped.
We created family jobs.
Everyone had one.
I set table.
My husband cleared.
Osric carried napkins.
Only if he wanted the age-appropriate job? We gave choices.
Napkins or spoons.
He chose spoons.
Important difference.
Nobody called anyone master.
Nobody ate first because of rank.
Nobody lost meals because chores were imperfect.
Consequences existed.
If toys were deliberately thrown everywhere, screen time waited until cleanup.
Food did not.
Warmth did not.
Affection did not.
Osric tested constantly.
“If I don’t do spoon, lunch?”
“Yes.”
“If I yell?”
“Yes.”
“If I say Grandma bad word?”
“Lunch still yes. Conversation also yes.”
He groaned.
Parenting remained tragically complex.
Then one day he carried a plate to his cousin during a family picnic.
Voluntarily.
I froze.
He said:
“She forgot.”
His cousin smiled.
“Thanks.”
Then she carried him a juice box.
Reciprocity.
No hierarchy.
I almost cried.
My sister noticed.
“We’re doing meaning again.”
“Yes.”
We laughed.
May you like
The children did not.
They were busy arguing about bubbles.
