My girlies rarely fight or disagree. Usually they are just the BEST of friends and peace and joy and giggles and sweetness reign in our groovy home. See, here they are together on this, our first official day of the '07-'08 school year. Don't they just look perfectly chummy?
But every once in a while an issue arises that is SO HUGE it can only be dealt with by a heated and fierce bout of confrontation or, in this groovy house, cooperation which, coincidentally, is the character quality that all of our unit studies for school will be built around for the next several months:
I am waltzing with Mr. Hoover as I vacuum the kitchen floor. Girly-Girl is wearing bright yellow rubber gloves and is making the pastry brush tickle the pizza pan. The pizza pan is giggling. In our house this is known as "washing the dishes". Girly-Girl has been "washing" the same seven dishes for almost 45 minutes now.
Silly-Head is bored because her best friend, her sister, her pal, her play chum is busy. Silly-Head starts to eye me curiously. A sweet little voice interrupts my muse (in our house this is known as "Mom's talking to herself again!").
"Mommy?..." (I can't hear her. Mr. Hoover is too loud.)
"Mommy!..." (I can't hear her because I am in my own little world writing stories about Pea's Faerie garden in the inner recesses of my brain.)
"MOMMY!" (OK, OKAY, I hear her!) I am rather startled by this rudely shouted intrusion.
"WHAT!?!" I silence Mr. Hoover and give her the you-scared-me-half-to-death-while-I-was-vacuuming-and-it-had-better-be-important glare.
The look is completely lost on her due to all the excited sparkles of joy and anticipation in her own adorable little brown orbs.
"Can I vacuum....PLEASE????????
"Can you WHAT?" I frown disapprovingly. Everyone in this groovy house knows that A.) Mr. Hoover is very tall and heavy and B.) only Mom and Dad vacuum. Consequently, C.) little girlies do NOT operate Mr. Hoover. There are plans somewhere down the line to replace him with a more kid friendly model (Shhh, don't tell him - It'd hurt his feelings!), but for the time being he's all we've got.
However... I have already vacuumed up the worst of the mess. And... What kind of idiot mom tells her kids, "No, you can't help with the housework"????
Not THIS kind of idiot mom!
"Honey, of course you can vacuum!" I give her the attachments, and set her to work. The sparkles in her eyes as she struggles with the beastly thing almost blind me.
Now I notice that Girly-Girl is suddenly working much more quickly on her washing job. Yes, she is actually using the dishcloth on the dirty dishes and then rinsing them. She is done in 2 minutes flat and jumps down off the stool.
"Mo-om! When will it be MY turn to vacuum?! I want to vacuum too!!"
"Well, I suppose you could have a turn too. But first let's let Sissy have a few more minutes." (Sissy has been happily vacuuming the same spot for several minutes now.)
I leave the room to start musing elsewhere. Unfortunately, lulling my mind into a quiet place of reverie is difficult because there are little voices shouting over Mr. Hoover's humming. I ignore the raised voices in the endless parental hope that the sisters will work things through on their own.
You HAVE to stop laughing because you don't know my little angels; They DID work it out by themselves!
A few minutes later I peek into the kitchen. Girly-Girl is now wielding the attachment hose and Silly-Head is tagging along behind dragging the actual vacuum. They are experimenting with the different nozzles and accessories and having a capital time. The next time I look in on them, they have switched places (of their own accord) and are giggling maniacally as they vacuum each others' pant legs.
Oddly enough, the floor is indeed clean. They have saved me work AND had a lovely time together doing so.
Methinks this Cooperation unit is going to be a Groovy favorite!
Now I need to give them a serious lecture on how, NO, they are NOT old enough to scrub the toilets...