Can't please 'em
I asked Amy to help me fold laundry. She cheerfully agreed. I carried their laundry upstairs and laid it on the chair in her room. Soon she was busily folding clothes. All was peaceful for about 10 minutes. Then Michael discovered Amy was not downstairs anymore (they had been happily "reading" together). He wondered around the house calling for Amy.
"She's upstairs folding laundry." I finally volunteered.
"Ohhhhh, Michael help Amy." Michael started plodding up the stairs.
"No Mommy," Amy yelled down the stairs. "I want to do it all by myself."
"You can let Michael put the clothes away," I remonstrated.
"OK," she reluctantly agreed.
I continued my kitchen duties, worried that trouble was brewing.
Sure enough.
"MOMMY! Michael is trying to fold the clothes. Michael can't fold the clothes." Amy sounded desparate.
"WAAAAAA," Michael wailed. "MOMMY! Amy won't let me fold.
"Put that down." Amy ordered.
"No, Michael fold it." Michael was determined.
I decided to intervene and soon arrived on the scene. Michael was desperately holding onto his pants and Amy was trying her hardest to pull it from him.
"Stop this," I ordered. "I will help Michael fold this pair of pants while you fold the rest of the clothes."
Michael liked that plan. Amy started sulking. I ignored her. By the time I'd helped Michael lay them flat, fold them, and put them in the drawer Amy had completed folding the rest of their laundry and started putting it away. When she got to Michael's drawer, she very ceremoniously pulled the pants we had JUST folded together out.
"These aren't folded RIGHT." She exclaimed disgustedly. "Let me show you how I fold them."
"NO!" Michael screamed. "Don't take MY pants out." Tears started rolling fast.
"It's OK, Michael. She will refold them and put them back."
He calmed down a bit but continued to sob quietly as Amy folded the pants and ostentatiously placed them back into the drawer.
Michael waited until the drawer was closed. Then leaped from my lap, pulled the drawer open, grabbed the pants and unfolded them.
"Mommy, MICHAEL fold THESE pants!" He exclaimed determinedly.
"WAAAAA," now Amy had the tears flowing. "Michael, I folded that nicely, you messed it up!"
I helped Michael refold the pants while Amy sobbed beside me.
Just as we started to put them back into the drawer Amy made another grab for them and managed to get them unfolded AGAIN.
"NOPE" I said firmly. Mommy is going to fold these pants and neither of you are allowed to touch them anymore.
So they BOTH ended up crying as mommy refolded these pants for the FOURTH time and put them in the drawer.
Sigh, and Eric wonders why I'm so tired by the time he gets home from work.
"She's upstairs folding laundry." I finally volunteered.
"Ohhhhh, Michael help Amy." Michael started plodding up the stairs.
"No Mommy," Amy yelled down the stairs. "I want to do it all by myself."
"You can let Michael put the clothes away," I remonstrated.
"OK," she reluctantly agreed.
I continued my kitchen duties, worried that trouble was brewing.
Sure enough.
"MOMMY! Michael is trying to fold the clothes. Michael can't fold the clothes." Amy sounded desparate.
"WAAAAAA," Michael wailed. "MOMMY! Amy won't let me fold.
"Put that down." Amy ordered.
"No, Michael fold it." Michael was determined.
I decided to intervene and soon arrived on the scene. Michael was desperately holding onto his pants and Amy was trying her hardest to pull it from him.
"Stop this," I ordered. "I will help Michael fold this pair of pants while you fold the rest of the clothes."
Michael liked that plan. Amy started sulking. I ignored her. By the time I'd helped Michael lay them flat, fold them, and put them in the drawer Amy had completed folding the rest of their laundry and started putting it away. When she got to Michael's drawer, she very ceremoniously pulled the pants we had JUST folded together out.
"These aren't folded RIGHT." She exclaimed disgustedly. "Let me show you how I fold them."
"NO!" Michael screamed. "Don't take MY pants out." Tears started rolling fast.
"It's OK, Michael. She will refold them and put them back."
He calmed down a bit but continued to sob quietly as Amy folded the pants and ostentatiously placed them back into the drawer.
Michael waited until the drawer was closed. Then leaped from my lap, pulled the drawer open, grabbed the pants and unfolded them.
"Mommy, MICHAEL fold THESE pants!" He exclaimed determinedly.
"WAAAAA," now Amy had the tears flowing. "Michael, I folded that nicely, you messed it up!"
I helped Michael refold the pants while Amy sobbed beside me.
Just as we started to put them back into the drawer Amy made another grab for them and managed to get them unfolded AGAIN.
"NOPE" I said firmly. Mommy is going to fold these pants and neither of you are allowed to touch them anymore.
So they BOTH ended up crying as mommy refolded these pants for the FOURTH time and put them in the drawer.
Sigh, and Eric wonders why I'm so tired by the time he gets home from work.
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