Ah, the preschool years, when kids are still sweet and innocent and entirely clueless about the phrase "child labor", as they willingly help out Mommy and Daddy with the household chores.
I dread the moment when Owen stops thinking that bringing the laundry downstairs is fun, or a challenge to prove to Mommy that he really
does have the muscles strong enough to carry his laundry basket (and Ben's, and the sheets, and blankets....) down the stairs. Or when he discovers that matching everyone's socks really
isn't a very exciting game afterall.
And poor Daddio when Owen decides that he should be getting PAID to shovel the sidewalk. Right now, he's perfectly content with shoveling snow, as long as he is able to eat a few handfuls when he is finished. I don't exactly see that as still being the case when he is 12 or 13.
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| Sure I'll shovel. No problem. |
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| The sidewalk next? Okay! |
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| Can I stop now? |
Can he come to my house next? Not for the snow shoveling but because there's a pile of stuff sitting in our dining room that's was supposed to make it down to the garage two weeks ago. I'll even feed him. Thanks.
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