Am I Lazy, or Clever?

My mother threatens to cut me out of her will for oppressing her grandchildren when I require them to clean up the kitchen after dinner. It takes some management and encouragement: "We're done!" "Did you do everything?" "Oh, yeah." "Did you look at the kitchen with Mawmaw's eyes?" "Weellll..." "Go look again."

Occasionally their enthusiasm inspires them to take all the dirty dishes out of the dishwasher and wash them by hand, using lots of soap and enough water to fill a hot tub.

My kids are pretty self sufficient, for spoiled twenty-first century children. They make their own snacks, sometimes even choosing healthy foods, and they often make their own breakfast. What do I care if they want chicken noodle soup for breakfast -- it's food, isn't it? (Remember Bill Cosby's outstanding routine about serving his kids chocolate cake and grapefruit juice for breakfast?) So last week I engaged in a little experiment. I asked Cleo and Robey to make dinner for all of us; the only rules were that they had to make something I don't hate, and burning down the house would be discouraged. When they called me in to dinner they very proudly showed off one frozen pizza and two cans of peaches.

It's a start. I'm looking forward to the day they use ingredients.