The forbidden zone...

It finally happened. I gave into my cravings for a clean house. I went into the step Troll’s room, put my foot down, and told him,

“You have to clean your room!”

Then I found I could not leave, as my foot had stuck to the floor.

He got the point.

After the ordeal of shoe removal, I offered the occasional criticism and bad advice.
I had to help him with vacuum operating lessons, and tell him where all the cleaning necessities are, but he finally got through the first stage of cleaning his room.

Then the dog took a dump on the freshly cleaned floor of his bathroom.

I now feel as though I am not a failure as a parent and that he shall have some of the skills necessary for when he decides to go out on his own.

He will, at least, know the frustrations of cleaning.



(I would like to say that he did this job without whining, crying, complaining, or any other of the traditional teenage ‘postpone the inevitable’ ploys. He got right down to it. But I know that he reads this and would not want him to think that I MIGHT have something nice to say about him. It would ruin that whole evil stepfather thing I have going. I am counting in his short attention span to insure that he does not read this part.)

(If he does read down this far and admits it, then I shall have to devise some insidious punishment for some imagined wrong, just to bring balance back to the universe. Being a parent is a full time job and forces you to push the limits of your creativity.)