Childhood chores...

What better way to start my triumphant return than by giving y'all, the one and half (maybe) readers still out there, an explanation about where I've been. Things around the phishbowl have been all kinds of busy. There's the day (and sometimes night) job, there's the design gig, there's telling lies at agent bedhead and trying to do right by the phinlet.

Well part of doing right by the phinlet is making sure that he grows up to be a respectable, responsible adult or a reasonable impersonation thereof. As some folks, mainly the voices in my head, suggested we start training him at an early age. So we've come up with some chores that he's responsible for. Just to make sure that the phinlet, age 10 months, totes his own weight around the house.

Well Kate's got some questions about such a thing, so I'll share.

Right now since he's not up to taking out the trash, mowing the law and operating the vacuum we're setting for smaller contributions. Like ensuring the stray Cheetos and Cheerios are off the kitchen / living room / dining room floors. On Saturdays we strap sponges to his hands, knees and forehead so he can mop the kitchen and dining room floors. Sure he misses a couple of spots, but he's learning quick that if he wants to eat the following week he'll do the job right.

I'd wrapped the phinlet in paper-towels, sprayed him down with lemon-pledge and stuffed him behind the entertainment center to dust a couple of weeks back. All was going good until he started flailing around and knocked a bunch of the wires loose. I guess I should have put those receptacle covers up, or at least not given him that fork to clean the crevasses.

Sure some people think its cruel and inhumane when they see the little guy working like a slave, but they normally quit fussing about that when I explain to them how I dust the ceiling fans with the cats.

There's no such thing as a free ride around my house, you know, unless you're me.

As far as penalizing him for chores that go undone or are poorly done I'd started out with a couple of quick lashes from a rubber hose, but well I think he's starting to enjoy the beatings. Mainly because he keeps bringing me the hose. So I guess we'll have to find some new methods of ensuring that he's performing up to snuff. I think I've got an frayed electrical cord, some nipple clamps and a bullwhip left over from date nights with the missus that ought to work, for a while at least.