I do not like finding food messes about the house, but I am glad that the new downstairs lounge is leather. I got the girls to help me wipe down the couch. Leila sometimes hides her half eaten fruit behind the upstairs lounge. I do not like it. Sometimes I get on and clean it up myself, but often I leave it and make the offender take responsibility.
The most recent disaster does not come with a photo. Having cut back dancing lessons a little to allow more morning time on Saturdays, the girls were unsupervised for a while while Damien and I had a little lie-in. Beth came into our bedroom covered in flour, and said that there was a bit of a mess in the loungeroom.
What an understatement: About 6 or so litres of wholemeal flour was spread throughout the loungeroom and all over the girls. It was on all the furniture, the curtains, the piano, the TV and Playstation... There was shouting and thumping, and making them take responsibility helping to clean up (it took about an hour - er, the clean up not the thumping). They also had to forfeit 12 soft toys to charity. I had to contain the girls to the loungeroom while I swept up the rest of the house. Every where they went they were leaving floury footprints. Fortunately their beds were due for a change anyway (Damien had initially sent them to their rooms).
Damien did not want me to photograph it in case it sent the girls the wrong message. He had WORDS with me about being too soft. I think the girls got the message though, taking toys was a pretty high scoring punishment (tears, wailing etc.)
One interesting thing to note is that flour is not good for the vacuum cleaner. When flour whirls about it creates it's own little thunderstorm. The static charge kept arcing across the handle/shaft of the vacuum cleaner. Bethany got a shock, and then she was too scared to use the vacuum cleaner. There was a bit of discussion about fire risk with clouds of flour about, and I think they understood why I was getting them to sweep up the flour ahead of me as I vacuumed. We half filled a 10 litre nappy bucket with cleaned up flour. There were quite a few more shocks in the process. Most of them didn't hurt too much, and nothing exploded, so we all lived to tell the tale.
I managed to clean the hallways and kitchen, the loungeroom and the girls (hair had to be washed etc) and got them to Dancing (late). Shoes were left behind again, so I ended up making 2 trips. Damien played a gig that morning, so he helped out in the afternoon using a rotary brush to vacuum again over the apparently clean carpet. It was not an experience I wish to repeat, but I will add it to my list of "in the trenches" parenting war stories.
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