The Chore Wheel

Each day my children are assigned a few chores to help the family, and to allow the household hum along at peak efficiency. You know, if by "hum" you mean "screech" and by "peak efficiency" you mean "grinding halt."

I made our current chore wheel out of paper plates, and the cardboard arrow spins on a rivet, because I watch HGTV. It's magnetic, and occupies a place of honor and prominence on the refrigerator, which ought to be easily seen any one of the three or four times a day when the fridge door is closed.

Now, I am not a slave driver. The chores are entirely age-appropriate, and my expectations quite low. (It's not like I put on there "five minutes of silence" or anything.) But "educational" television shows like The Big Comfy Couch have gone a long way toward teaching a whole generation of kids that stowing toys under the couch cushions constitutes "clean up time."

It's adorable when toddlers cover their own eyes to "hide." The charm of this philosophy breaks down, however, when they hit 7 or 8, and they think "if you can't see it, it's cleaned up."

My daughter is way more "line of sight" savvy than her brother. She will pile things up just out of view from the bedroom door, such that from a casual vantage, the room looks deceptively perfect. It's like at the science museum, when you look through the hole and see a nice little parlor with a chair and a lamp, then you look in the side and everything's all wacky and bent and triangular. You step two feet through her doorway, and seven truckloads of clothes piled solid to the ceiling suddenly materialize.

A mind capable of such comprehensive understanding of structural engineering principles ought to be able to use some of those powers for good. It's all I'm saying.

A reasonable amount of daily preadolescent chore activity, I think, is about 30 minutes. 30 chore-minutes though, in the kid dimension, roughly equals ¼ of their lifetime. But really, the half hour limit has nothing to do with their stamina, or age-appropriate guidelines. 30 minutes is all the whining I can take, before my brain starts to melt.

Often, in that time, rather that rendering some area or group of objects more orderly, the reverse takes place. This backward progress is frustrating, but like with my retirement fund, I choose to believe that in the long-run things will improve, and that ultimately, I'll be covered.

Then there's the whole concept of "the spirit of the law." (Which just goes to show that there is a pretty good reason that spirits are illegal until you're 21.) To a kid, spirit means the same thing as ghost, and should be avoided at all cost.

"Is this good enough, Mom?"
No.
This?
No.
This?
Look, you only wiped one square inch of the sink. See the green finger paint smeared all over the place? You can tell it's clean when all the green is gone. The sink is supposed to be white, you see. It's always been white. It's a white sink.
That's too hard!
This? Is the smallest sink manufactured in the western hemisphere. I think you can handle it.
I think it's a two dollar job.
Excuse me? Two dollars?!? For a 30-second job? You have to be a lawyer to charge that much. You, on the other hand, don't even have a 6^th grade education!
But I'm only 9.
Right. So you get to do it for free, in the spirit of supporting and helping the family. And in return, I feed you, clothe you, shelter you, wash your clothes, and promise not to fold your Batman underwear in front of your sister's friends. It's a good deal, counselor. You should take it.
One dollar?
Fifty cents, and a hug.
Deal.

Well, negotiating skills can be very valuable in life. He may not ever be good at cleaning sinks, but if he can pull a few hostages out of dicey situations, who am I to complain?

And speaking of hostages, I've found that one of the best ways to deal with an ill-handled chore that has gotten way out of control on the backwards progress meter, and possibly placed portions of my home on the "condemned" list, is to take their favorite clothing hostage. Need a pair of socks? That'll be 100 Legos, in the box, please. Let them negotiate THAT!

It's all about efficient cooperation, and they will cooperate, even if I have to do it myself.