A Note From My Toddler on Household Chores
posted by: Guest Blogger
Hello, Mother. I see you think this afternoon’s activities will including cleaning. I tell you now, woman, that should not—nay!—will not transpire.
You think you can trick me into allowing you to clean? Do you not remember the incident of just thrice nights ago? Did I not best Sir Thomas of Sodor in single combat? I ask again: Did I not?
Oh ho ho. I see your poorly veiled attempts at tomfoolery as you wrestle this pile of clean garments. How clearly I remember my long-ago youth, a time more than a fortnight ago when you made me chuckle so by holding up a dancing shirt and playing peek-a-boo. A simpleton’s game, yes, but you bested me then. But never again. I say, never again.
And ha! You see how I’m destroying this small, separate pile of clothing off to the side of your stacked laundry? You see how I’ve conquered Towel Mountain and claimed this land for toddler and country? But you wouldn’t. You’re too busy putting away clean clothes to recognize your own defeat. Silly Mother.
What’s this now? What strange device are you using to smite the dust from the floors? You think you can simply sweep away those Cheerios that I so strategically planted around the house to get myself through the long winter? I will thrust them all in my mouth while you screech and try to get me to spit them out. I lock eyes on you, swallow the doomed Cheerios, and grin. I win this round, Mother. Soon, I shall win all rounds.
I’ll just sit here trying to scrape dust from my tongue while you finish with your infernal sweeping. And actually, I think I’d like to call an end to this battle with an epic snuggle. And mayhaps read these four books twenty-three times in a row. Until next we meet, Mother. Fare thee well.
P.S.—I wouldn’t say no to a snack.