Zechariah likes to drink chocolate milk. He isn't able to mix it himself, but he sure can drink it. The other day I was making a glass for him, and asked him to put the milk away. His response was disheartening.
"No. I don't want to. I just want to drink my chocolate milk."
"What do you mean you DON'T want to? You afraid of a little work?"
"No. I don't like to work.
This response didn't go over very well with me. I made him do it anyway, and tried to explain that we all have to do work whether or not we really want to, and then I added, "Right, Gabe?"
He was sitting at the table coloring and I knew he would appreciate the conversation.
Gabriel gave me a very exaggerated, "Yes. I have to do SO MUCH work. You're lucky, Zech!"
I found this a bit comical. He was referring to the few chores he does around the house. On Saturday's he cleans the bathrooms, and twice a week he washes the dishes. His room is also supposed to be kept clean. This pretty much is where the work ends for him. I might ask him to take out the garbage or the recycling, but that about covers it.
I couldn't resist emphasizing how easy he has it as a child, and that he should enjoy it while it lasts. When did I turn into my mother?
His acknowledgement was priceless. I will never let my husband forget it.
"Well, at least I'm going to be the husband when I grow up. When you're the mom you have to work like 24 hours a day, every day. And dad works what, like 11 hours? And then he gets to play for the rest of the day!"