Following in her footsteps

When I was growing up my mother had a good friend that liked to come around once in a while.

My mother loved this friend dearly...I on the other hand hated, no loathed, this friend.

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The mere mention of this friend sent me in to a fit that was far beyond what a small child should be capable of.

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This friend came around far too often in my opinion and I really just wished they would disappear. I referred to this friend as the black plague of death.

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She referred to it as the big black trash bag.

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The big black trash bag was brought out when us children had innocently been playing with toys and been distracted, leaving said toys on the floor in the family room.
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In my childhood memory I am sure she never asked us to pick up the toys before bringing out her friend, I would have remembered that. But without warning the black plague of death would swoop in and take all of our toys for himself.
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We were able to "earn" our toys back by doing very horrible chores. Things like cut the lawn with a pair of nail clippers would earn us the smallest toy. Washing the shingles on the roof with a toothbrush and our spit in 150 degree weather would earn us a medium sized toy....or chores like that, I really can't be sure of those details as I have blocked them from memory.

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I hated that darn bag with all my heart and vowed it would never show it's ugly face in my house when I was a mother.

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I kept part of the promise by introducing the WHITE trash bag to Brielle a couple of days ago.

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I had threatened that if she did not get out from under her covers and help me clean up the toys she had left all over that I was going to have to throw them away.

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And do you know what? She just sat there under her covers sure I would never do such a thing.

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I don't know what came over me but as I stood there staring at the tornado of toys littering my ENTIRE house...something inside snapped. I couldn't believe I was about to do this but I retrieved my weapon of choice, the white trash bag. And oddly enough, I couldn't wait to start gathering the toys.

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Brielle cried about the cruelty she had just witnessed as I hauled the bag over to my closet. She begged and pleaded for me to give her toys back and promised that NEXT time she will help me clean up the toys. (Infamous words from a 4 year old)

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I held strong though and told her she would have to earn them back.

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It's like my own personal little maid has moved in now! In fact just the other day she asked me, "Mom, when we get home can I make a mess so I can clean it up and earn some toys back?" I told her I was sure we could come up with something she could do to earn them....for instance the lawn needs mowing.

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I'm not sure if the trash bag will scar her like it did me, but I'm guessing it will. At least she might learn that she has some responsibility to take care of her things.

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That or she'll just learn that if she sees a trash bag coming she better grab all the toys she possibly can and shove them under her bed for safe keeping...just hypothetically speaking of course.

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*Please note that my heavy sarcasm is not a true representation of my mother...we were allowed to use scissors to cut the lawn.*