Helping or hurting, kids?!?

I decided when my kids were younger that I was going to train them up to be responsible for packing away their own toys, tidying up after themselves, etc. This is more difficult than you would think! The number of times I could have tidied up a room with toys scattered in less than 2 minutes, and instead have spent ten minutes supervising the kids doing this same job...But I keep telling myself that one day not too far from now, I will be glad I did it. And every now and then, I am pleasantly surprised by Isabel packing away the duplo without even being asked. I think my heart might just burst with pride (almost).

Sometimes they do other "helpful" things, that make me unsure about whether I should tear my hair out or say, "Good job, sweetheart!" Things like Jack deciding to pull out all his clothes and re-organize them (why oh I do I even bother folding?). Or Isabel taking towels out from the linen cupboard to lay them down in puddles outside, as she says to herself, "Cleanin' up da mess..."

Yesterday the kids decided the floor needed a wash. The floor had in fact been mopped two days previously, and was pretty clean. They got sponges out of the sink (one of which appeared to have been soaking in dirty water) and started 'mopping' the floor with them. Imagine lots and lots of drops followed by puddles of dirty water on my nice clean floor. I tried to explain to Jack he needed to wring out the sponge first to get rid of the extra water before cleaning the floor but as 4 year olds often do, he (loudly) voiced his opposing thoughts. So here is Mummy facing a dilemma. Do I still encourage helping, or do I save myself from a big clean-up job? While all this is going on, Isabel was outside quietly scrubbing the bricks with a sponge.

As for cleaning the bathroom, everyone wants to be the one to spray the windex on the mirror, and basically everywhere, regardless if we have already finished. I guess it could be worse. Rather than spraying cleaning product on the bath they could be scribbling on it with crayons- oh wait, they've already done that.

So it seems my whole reason for housework is children. Each time I clean up a particular mess, I have left my kids unsupervised long enough to make another awful mess. Then I go to fix that one, and they make another mess, and so on, and so on...

In the evening my husband comes home and walks into our trashed house, much the same as it looked in the morning when he left. He knows now, though, from experience of the head-biteage variety, that the appropriate response is to smile and say, " The house looks good..."