This is our four-year-old daughter hauling heavy bags of detritus out of the house and into a trailer. As I’ve explained to her time and time again, everything we do is for her, so if she wants to be guilt-free in her twenties it’s probably time to step up to the plate. She heartily agreed when a cookie or two was thrown into the mix.
We had to resort to child labour when the great bank commercial/cottage magazine ad of the sky failed to open up and rain down on us six to eight strong backed, nice teethed young friends who love pizza and beer and laughter, laughter, laughter. Instead it was the three of us – the man, me and the four-year-old. I had hauled bags for hours, the man was remediating and the child was bored. So naturally, I put her to work. This lasted for about five minutes before she whipped off the gloves and engaged in a sit-down. What followed was a very productive hour of the man remediating and me trying to coax her into working some more while I continued to move garbage bags o’ crap from house to trailer:
As you can see in the above image, my persuasive tactics are being stonewalled by a lazy little thing. Her very spine speaks of a lounging future.
Stripping a dusty old house down to its joists, coupled with the fact that one of us needs to actually look after our fairly useless four-year-old, means that we are in for a long haul.
We are lining up some friends with nice teeth as I write this.