Getting kids to stick at chores long term can be a challenge
I’m declaring 2017 the Year of the Chore. Sure, it’s not as sexy as the Year of the Rooster, nor as catchy as the UN’s 2017 the International Year of Sustainable Tourism for Development, but by god it’s for a worthy cause.
Inner West
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I’m declaring 2017 the Year of the Chore.
Sure, it’s not as sexy as the Year of the Rooster, nor as catchy as the UN’s 2017 the International Year of Sustainable Tourism for Development, but by god it’s for a worthy cause.
I’m aiming to raise awareness in my local community – specifically my super-local micro-community of our three kids – about the bajillion daily tasks that prevent our household from slipping into chaos and filth.
There’s only myself to blame, of course, as up til now I’ve been that mother who finds it easier to just do the bloody job themselves rather than nag and cajole or get all control-freaky about how the dishwasher is stacked. (See my A-Z Guide To Dishwasher Stacking, out in all good bookstores now.)
But it would be unfair to suggest the kids do nothing. The five-year-old likes to make beds. The seven-year-old is a keen maker of lunches. The 10-year-old can organise a bookshelf like nobody’s business.
It’s just that the bursts of helpfulness are short-lived and, paradoxically, I haven’t had the energy to turn them into a formal arrangement.
So it’s an ambitious project but I’ve convened my 2017 Year of The Chore Organising Committee and begun an educational program.
I consulted some of those age-appropriate chores lists you find all over the internet, noting with dismay all the tasks my kids should be doing by now.
Frankly I’d still trade them all for just “putting stuff away”.
We began with the dishes. It became apparent how little the children knew about this when their idea of washing bowls was to dip them uselessly in the sink and then look at me expectantly.
But the chores experts caution against micromanaging or insisting on perfection, so I praised their efforts and we moved on.
Setting the table was straightforward apart from correct placement of the fish knives and folding the napkins into swans.
Sorting the laundry required little formal training other than a PowerPoint presentation on how to handle a fitted sheet.
Helping put away groceries went well until I found the milk erroneously placed in a cupboard, then realised I was the airhead culprit.
Vacuuming proved surprisingly popular, with the only casualties being the loss of many crucial small things that had hit the floor and about a kilogram of microscopic Lego.
The garden has been a mixed blessing, though; sweeping up leaves is great but weeding requires supervision and watering is an invitation to child saturation.
I’ve not yet moved into the more Victorian-era jobs I recall from my youth – dusting the skirting boards, polishing the brass, going up the chimney.
Meanwhile, cooking supervision is a job for Dad. And I’m a little spooked by the “age appropriate tasks” for teenagers mentioned on some lists, like sewing on buttons (ouch) and dusting ceiling fans (top tip: turn off fan first).
As for ironing, the day I get a child of mine to do that will be the day I summon the ambos and the fire brigade in the same phone call. Also, I’m not sure where it’s kept.