I blanched but kept my mouth shut today when my husband told the kids to clean out the inside of the battle van.
I didn't have to say anything because they protested enough all on their own. I saw his point, though, so I also ordered them out.
"But Moooom," Nolan whined, "there's nothing in there that belongs to me, do I have to?"
"It's just like the house, son. We all live here, we all clean it up. We all use the van, we should all clean it up. I spend a lot my time in it, hauling the lot of you around, and yesterday, when my co-worker and I used it to go to lunch, I found myself praying it didn't smell too much like ass as I unlocked the door. I gave her the "I have no idea what's in there" disclaimer, too. Thank god I had taken those blueberry muffins to work, and their scent lingered."
"I guarantee you will find at least one thing, hmmmm, let's see, like a game recharger, that belongs to you. You'll see."
Sure, I fretted as they went out the door, but I didn't follow. I told them where our freaky outdoor vacuum was, and that was that. I giggled as I overheard Nolan and Ben bickering, over who would do what, and I really chortled when I overheard my words coming out of Nolan's mouth: "You just have to make this more difficult, don't you??"
I walked down the hall, stood in the doorway to my bedroom, and bowed down to Mr W. "Brilliant! Genius to put them to work..." as I updated him on the comments I'd heard.
It didn't go entirely smoothly, but they all tried--even Audrey helped. Nolan found a game recharger, as predicted. (Behold the power of Mommy and fear her omniscience!!)
And now the van smells like Simple Green.
With a hint, just a teeny hint, of ass.
(You can't have everything when the labor is free.)