Piper’s chore after dinner is to clear the table. Sissy cleans the plates and loads the dishwasher. I have either cooked the dinner or I’m on pots and pans duty. My partner does the same. This chore distribution is under constant negotiation at Saturday family meetings, but it seems whatever chore Piper is assigned, she spends much of her time trying to wiggle out of it. She’s actually quite proud of herself once her chore is completed, but the actual task brings much protest. The working conditions are just unacceptable.
“I wish we lived at a hotel,” Piper said tonight dragging her feet as she moved the dishes the entire ten feet from table to counter. “Then we wouldn’t have to clean up.”
This was followed by loud, exaggerated sighs. We all ignored her. Piper escaped to the living room.
“Come back, Piper. The table isn’t clear.”
“My arms are tired,” she whined, flailing her exhausted arms.
We all ignored her.
“I wish I was at Grandma’s house,” Piper said. “You don’t have to do chores at Grandma’s house.”
“We aren’t at Grandma’s house. Piper, finish clearing the table, please.”
She’d now stretched her two minute job into almost half an hour. She cleared the last plate and mumbled, “Everything is better at Grandma’s.”
Who do you think taught me to make my kids do their chores? Piper probably doesn’t want to know the answer to that.