Halloween is nigh, y’all.
At the time of this writing, my daughter isn’t even participating in Halloween. Due to an incredibly messy room that I asked her to clean precisely 2,432 times over a period of three days, I took the most important thing off her floor and hid it: her Cleopatra Halloween costume.
You see, things like dirty rocks, scraps of paper, twisted pipe cleaners, library books, clean pajamas, $2 bills torn in half, and her most precious teddy bear are clearly not things that are important to her, since she didn’t pick any of them up, either.
She was horrified that I would take her costume away. I was pretty dramatic about it, too. I seized it from her floor, looked her in the eye and actually told her I threw it away. That was not nice of me, although I nearly did toss it to teach her a lesson.
She bawled. I hid it in a cabinet, and then tried to figure out how to a) break the news to my husband that I had impulsively taken away his only daughter’s 7th Halloween, b) give her a chance to redeem herself, and c) get her damn room cleaned up, because even with the threat of Cleo hanging over her head, she’d probably get distracted and read a book for 2 hours and never do it anyway.
Upon a few moments of reflection over my Catholic school nun-like parenting moment, I decided that perhaps I needed to throw the ball into her court a bit more. Give her a chance to redeem herself, but to own it and come up with how. Because frankly, I didn’t have any good ideas. Plus, the Real Housewives of New Jersey reunion part 3 was about to come on, and I really wanted to see if the two men were going to blows or if Theresa was going to check back into reality.
I told her she needed to come up with a proposal on how she was going to earn the costume back before Halloween.
That was ten days ago, and apparently, she’s still in the creative development stage of that proposal because I’ve got nothin’.
I gently reminded her last Thursday that I was still awaiting a proposal.
She then blurted out that she would do laundry for the entire house and also clean the entire house but under NO circumstances would she clean up dog poop because THAT is just GROSS. Then she shuddered all dramatic-like at the thought of being a responsible pet owner. Did I mention she’s been asking for a puppy or cat?
My kid takes 45 minutes to put her shoes on. Cleaning the entire house would take her until she got her period. I didn’t have time for that. Plus, it wouldn’t be clean enough. Of course, I haven’t cleaned the house in three weeks because I’ve been busy jobhunting. Maybe I shouldn’t complain.
I told her she could empty the dishwasher all of next week and clean the bathroom she shares with her brother. She agreed.
Odds are that Little CEO will not complete the task. She has good intentions, but the idea to write a poem will overtake her and you won’t see her again for 2 hours.
So the question is: what happens come Wednesday when the chores aren’t done?
Would you ever deny your kid the chance to trick-or-treat on Halloween as punishment?
I’m thinking I still have the dog poo to hold over her head.