Child Labor

I am a woman of many titles. So many that I made a list of them {what? a list? that's so unlike me}. It just so happens that on said list you will not find servant. I love my kids way too much to do every little thing for them. I expect my children to pick up after themselves, and that includes scrubbing their precious little fingerprints {and other souvenirs they leave behind} off the walls. Doesn't this look like fun?

Not only do I provide these fun opportunities for my chidren, I don't pay them to do their chores. I know, I know. I bet every kid wishes they had a mom like me. But really now. Nobody pays me to cook supper and do laundry. We are a family, and families work together for the good of the whole. We help each other without attaching a price tag to our service. Before you think I'm cruel and unusual {okay, there's probably no swaying your thought on unusual, but cruel...let me try to explain that I am not} I do give my children opportunities to earn money. We have a list of things that they can do to earn money. If they are done with their regular chores they can choose a paying job to complete. Because this is a job, it has to be done extremely well to receive payment. Sloppy job = sloppy pay.

Before I get busted for gloating posting about my children enjoying chores, I should admit that such is not the case. They often like to mix in some groans and complaints just to keep me well versed with the phrase, "Because I said so." But every once in a while there is a miraculous moment that must be recorded. Hence the picture above and the following story about my eldest child, Tate who is eight {has a nice ring to it, huh?} He really is eight by the way. So anyway, on with the story. In an effort to get Tate into bed quickly last night, I challenged him to a race. I bet him that I could put away all the folded laundry on the couch before he got out of the shower. Well of course my sweet daughter distracted me with something terribly urgent {she's six and pretty much everything in her world is urgent}.  Tate hustled his clean and freshly clothed little buns out and came racing to the kitchen.

Tate: Did I win?

My deflated answer: Yes, I got distracted.

His enthusiastic reply: Did you put away my clothes?

Me with a smile: Nope.

Tate with all the enthusiasm of a boy who just beat his mom: Good!

Then he grabbed his pile of clothes and rushed to his room to put them away. Bless his sweet little heart! Moments like that give me hope.

So what chores do you give your kids to do? Do you pay them? Come on now, spill the chore lovin' beans!