Anabelle came downstairs for breakfast and I informed her what day it was. She gave me a satisfied smirk. “Well, guess what? This morning when I woke up I felt this surge of responsibility and I decided after school that I was going to clean my room the cleanest it’s ever been.”
I raised an eyebrow. “Really . . .”
“Yep. You don’t even need to tell me to clean my room.” She sashayed into the kitchen.
Enter Sam. I told him what day it was.
“Nope. Nope. Nope. Nope. You’re confused. That’s not what they mean. It’s a game, Mom. It’s a game. I promise. It’s a game.”
I gave him the same raised eyebrow and the same, ” Really . . . ”
“You take a bunch of balls, dodgeballs or whatever. You throw them around your backyard. Half of them to one side, half of them to the other side.”
Anabelle jumped back into the room. “He’s serious Mom! When the timer goes off whoever has the ‘cleanest room’ wins!”
I stared at both of them. They’d taken the motivation right out of me to nag them about cleaning their rooms tonight. “Well played,” I said. “Well played.”
They went to the table, smiling at each other.