Category Archives: Family matters

In which we discuss matters of the family.

Family matters

Poppy’s first chores

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Poppy has developed a bit of a “Cars” obsession. She likes the movie, but even more than that she likes the Matchbox cars. She has four or five of them now, but she’s set her sights on more. They aren’t the most expensive toys on the planet — they’re $3 or $4 a car — but it does add up. So last week when she said she wanted to get “The Fabulous Hudson Hornet,” I told her she’d have to save up her money to get it. This lead to a conversation about how she could earn money. Which lead to this week’s Works for Me tip: Chores!

We sat down and thought of a few things Pi would do every day:

  • Make her bed. She’s needed prompting on this every morning. But it’ll sink in eventually. Right?
  • Sweep the kitchen. It’s more like “push things around the kitchen floor” at this point, but it’s a start.
  • Unload the silverware from the dishwasher. We don’t run the dishwasher every day, so she does this roughly every other day.
  • Pick up toys and books before bed. She’s supposed to do this in the living room and in her bedroom. I have had to remind her most nights, but she’s done a pretty good job with it after the reminder.

    • If she does her chores consistently, she’ll get $2 at the end of the week. The results aren’t always perfect, but I’m hoping it will give her a little sense of responsibility and an idea about how money works.

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    Family matters

    Go away, bad dream

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    Some mornings she gets up on her own, but this was one of those mornings that I had to get Poppy out of bed. Today she was awake, curled up under her sheet.

    “Mommy,” she said, “I don’t feel so well,” and I wondered how long she’d been awake there, waiting for me.

    “What’s wrong, honey?”

    “The ants,” she said. “The ants keep hurting me.”

    I wasn’t too alarmed about the ants. Had they been real ants, I would’ve heard her screaming. The girl doesn’t like bugs.

    “What ants?” I asked.

    “The black ants,” she said, “under my pillow.”

    “Show me,” I said, sitting down on the bed. She lifted her head and looked at the pillow.

    “Oh,” she said. She brightened. “There aren’t any ants!”

    “Did you have a bad dream, baby?” I asked.

    “Yes,” she said. “The ants were hurting me and they wouldn’t stop hurting me.”

    I gave her a hug and told her, “The next time you have a yucky dream, you just tell the yucky part to go home and leave you alone.”

    “And then the ants will go back to their mommies and daddies and grandmas and grandpas,” she said.

    “That’s right. And then you can go back to your good sleep,” I said.

    I wish I could make it so that she only has sweet dreams. This parenting thing can be hard on your heart.