The Hair Chair and the Doc Box

My nephew, yesterday, was having trouble at school. He wasn't listening to his teacher or participating in the lesson, and he refused to clean up a mess that he had made. So his teacher, unwilling to deal with it at the time, sent him home. When he walked in the door with his mother, she looked at me, and momma, and said: "Any job you need doing? Him." So while momma pondered over what she might get him to do, I said "I need to clean my room!" And so his mother sent him downstairs to my room with me to get started.

We started by the door, where the bookshelf was, and worked our way around the room, while I would tell him to put certain stuff here, and certain stuff there. He had trouble at first, because he didn't really know where to put random things like bobby pins or hair clips or my Atlas of Nephrology. I had a toy box, for all of my nifty toys to go in, and a laundrey basket for the clothes on the floor, so those weren't a problem. But I had to make something for him that he'd be able to remember where certain other things went.

Thus came into existance the Hair Chair, Doc Box, Pin Tin, and a few others like "The box of stuff that doesn't need to be in Mary's room"

Hair Chair- The chair on which to put any stray bobby pins, hair brushes, hair ribbons, or scrunchies.

Doc Box- The box in which all of my medically related books go in, also anything that has to do with being a doctor. Ex.- toy bear that pretends to be a doctor, stethescope, those scrubs I wore last halloween, etc.

Pin Tin- Where all the wall tacks go. I mean, sure, they're not really pins, but it was the thought that counts.

"The box of stuff that doesn't need to be in Mary's room"- Well, that's pretty self explanitory.

So it took a few hours, and several plastic bags full of junk I was willing to part with, and my room was finally pretty close to clean. My nephew even started to do things without me telling him! And when I would have to ask him, his response was a surprising "yes ma'm!!" How amazing! I've never gotten one of those from him!

So, after a bit, we go upstairs because we both need a well-deserved bathroom/lunch break, and his mother tells him that since it's 2:00 (the time his school gets out), and he would've been out of school by now, that he is done being a little cleaning boy.

I'm sort of dissappointed, because I wasn't done cleaning. But I go ahead and start to make myself lunch anyway.

So I'm in the middle of making myself a ham & swiss on wheat with all the goodies, he comes right up next to me, and asks me to make him a sandwich. Now, his mother is right in the living room, so I really don't see why he wants me to do it. I tell him this, and he goes to ask her. He comes back to me, and says "she says yes" . As if I now have permission to make him a sandwich. I tell him I kind of thought that mommy was going to make him a sandwich, and he groans that he wants me to make it! That was weird. He's never wanted me to make him anything. So, me and mommy do rock, paper, scissors to see who gets to make hims a sandwich. And to his joy, I won. I don't mind, though, because honestly, how hard is it to make a Cinnamon sandwich? Two pieces of bread, some butter, and some cinnamon.

So both sandwiches made, I was about to put his on a little animal face plate thingy. I forgot what they were called. Zoopals? Anyway, he says "No! I want the same plate as you!!" So I get him the same plate, the same size cup, and get us both a glass of strawberry milk, filled to exactly the same height. No more complaining.

So it's pretty nice that we were buddies like that for at least a little while. Once dinner rolled around, he was back to normal. But at least my room is cleaned. And I have to say, it looks pretty darn good.