in charge

The plan:

Mike would cut the grass (he cuts the grass more often than anyone I know. I think the neighbors are going to start stealing the spark plugs from our mower) and I would get the kids dressed and send them outside to play while I went to get my biennial eye exam. (Thus far I have not ever needed any corrective lenses, but I fear this is the year that is going to change…)

What happened:

Mike went out to cut the grass. I asked the children eighteen times to get dressed and was ignored eighteen times. I tried to pull out the big guns – the promise of bubbles, and was again, denied. In a moment of frustration, I said “Fine. I’m taking a shower. You guys are in charge. Do whatever you want.”

I came out of the shower to find they had set up an impromptu tea party in Maggie’s room. They were working together, playing quietly, having a snack (or six).

Maggie told me she had put down towels on top of towels on top of towels on their table (bed) so if anything spilled it would be OK.

I snapped a few shots and went on about my business.

“Mom, Nick made a mess.”

“You’re in charge, honey.”


A few minutes later as I sat to type this, Maggie wandered in to the living room.

“What is Nick doing?” I asked her.

“I don’t know,” she said shrugging her shoulders.

“You’re in charge. You better go find out.”

“Being in charge is hard,” she said walking out of the room to find her brother.


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