My girls are really good girls. I remember when they were toddlers, and I would say “No, no” as they were headed toward a potted plant (or some other something that was off limits.) And they would turn and look at me, smile, and come to me. “What?” “Did my child just listen to me?” “Do children really do that?”
My son NEVER listened to me as a toddler. I would say, “Ben, No, No.” as he headed for a the dog food bowl, and he would turn and smile sweetly, and then crawl as fast as lightening. He would have a hand full of dog food in his mouth before I could reach him. He used to crawl like he had a motor attached. And I was pregnant. With twins.
I am going to have so much fun with him as a teenager.
Anyway, I asked my girls to clean their room the other day. And I didn’t need to ask twice.
When they were done, I performed the time honored tradition passed down to me from my own mother.
The Inspection.
Did your mother do inspections?
My mother was the master and queen of all inspectors. No, she didn’t don a white glove and give the furniture a swipe to see if it was properly dusted… she just used her finger.
And she would say “It better shine like the top of the Chrysler building.” ala Miss Hannigan. We lived in terror of her inspections.
Sure, I can thank her now, because let me me tell you, this girl knows how to clean.
Anyway, I enjoyed inspections so much, I do them now with my own children. And I get the feeling, they love them as much as I did.
“Let me see here… very nice girls.”
“It looks wonderful.” “Well done.”
“Wait a minute… what that?” “Is that Spiderman’s foot sticking out from under the bed?”
Well, I guess that goes to show, even the best of us will try to pull a fast one if they think the inspector isn’t up to snuff.