While unloading groceries from the van this morning I noticed my eldest open the door and proceed to heave a rather large bag out and into the house. I was proud. I noted to myself what a big boy I had. How quickly he was growing.
Later on, having finished school time, I moved through the house taking care of the unappreciated little things that need done. As I was putting up a new toilet paper ("how hard is it to do this, my men? Seriously! It's like they would rather wipe with their hand than put up a new roll.") I noticed that the trash needed taken out. Again. Sigh ("where does all this garbage come from, anyway? It, like, accumulates exponentially out of nowhere. Nowhere!"). Now, of all the irksome household chores, garbage duty is waaaay high on my list. I just don't like doing it. It's not time consuming or horribly messy or strenuous. I just don't like it. I'd rather do almost any other chore. Now, as I was standing there I suddenly had an epiphany: Ohmigosh! Solomon! I can make Solomon do it!! Oh. This was just way too sweet. I called my kiddo into the bathroom and, in one of those moments a parent will never forget, joyfully explained to my son that he was inheriting garbage duty.
I'm rid of the thing for a good 14 years to come.
And after that we'll just have to have more kids. 
Solomon: "Sure smells bad."
(Evil) Mommy: "Yeah? Wait 'till Thursday. This bag will smell like roses compared to the ones with Brielle's diapers in them."
Solomon: "Ugh!"
(Evil) Mommy: Insert diabolical laugh.
2 comments:
Ohhh . . . you are catching on! ha!
You always did hate trash duty since I made you do it when you were about six years old. (Smile with me!) Mom
I've always been of the opinion that trash requires a Y chromosome anyway.
Having 3 sons did nothing to change my mind on that point.
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