So this morning as I slowly make my way to the kitchen in my terrycloth robe and slippers, rubbing my eyes to wake up, a perky little voice says, "Mommy we need to organize the house." He makes wide sweeping circles with his arms to make sure I understand he means the whole house. "We need to organize everything. Let's clean and make everything shiny." He turns and with more sweeping arm circles says, "And what do we need to clean this floor?".
I know- this would be any mother's dream, but keep in mind -Saturday morning, robe, slippers.
I know I am blessed. So I wake myself up and start cleaning. He loves to clean. He did not get that from me. I was an only child and if my mom made me clean, it meant that I was being punished for something.
He must have gotten this trait from Dad's side. My husband is the same way. I know, I know -you hate me. Actually, I think it's an Ecuadorian thing (my husband's side). Not just the cleaning, but the need to rearrange furniture. If my son decides he wants to clean he also means moving the furniture around. This table goes here and that one goes there. "It's prettier this way", he grunts as I run to help him move something before he gives himself a hernia.
I say this is an Ecuadorian thing because my roommate before I was married, who is also Ecuadorian, would constantly move things around. Our apartment never looked the same. She was also obsessed with changing her nail polish every night, but I'm not sure the two things are related.
So there we were on a Saturday morning wiping, sweeping and mopping all before heading to work. Although it was not what I was planning on doing and truthfully I didn't do much with such a great helper; It was surely productive. I truly am blessed and I don't deserve it. My mom always said that in punishment for not cleaning my room I would get a child that was worse than me.
But now that I think about it, perhaps the real punishment is getting a child that is worse than her and still makes me clean my room, even if I don't want to.
