Neighbors

by Pat Scholl -

Feb 9, 2005

Shall We Dance?

For centuries, man has wondered about the meaning of life. My children have to have gotten the hint only a few years ago that, at least in our house, part of the meaning of life is to have a clean room.

Now all of you with children have at one time encountered their rooms, no matter when you raised them, and I’m sure we could spend a good deal of time swapping stories about the state of upheaval, disorder and cataclysmic chaos that is a child’s room.

My children are no exceptions. The other day, I got to the breaking point. I told each of them that if they didn’t clean their room that I would be in there with a trash bag and begin gathering everything on the floor for deposit into the family garbage can. This threat was made all the more menacing because the following day was trash day and there would be no retrieving it before the garbage man came to collect!

That notwithstanding, they still pattered and puttered about, doing substantially less cleaning and more playing than I would have liked. I finally had it. I grabbed a trash bag and headed for Patrick’s room.

Patrick considers his room clean if his little area rug is visible. For him cleaning is merely a matter of pushing the piles of stuff onto the bottom bunk, under the bed, under the desk, or behind the door. The latter is a particularly effective favorite of his. I am usually so relieved to see the floor that I forget to check behind the door.

True to form, he had heaped toys behind the door and propped a teddy in front of the door. Several thousand Legos were clumped into little islands under his bed, and his books had been hurriedly stacked on his shelf in a precipitous pile that looked as though any minute it would once again command most of the floor space.

“Patrick, I see you tried. If you can get the junk out from behind the door, you’re done. He looked relieved that I had passed him, and slightly surprised that I had figured out the door trick without actually moving the door.

Marie’s room, on the other hand, was coming along nicely. Except for the sizable Polly Pocket playset arranged precisely in the middle of the room, it was relatively neat. She had obviously really tried to straighten it up. I even checked behind the door and there was only her laundry basket.

Later on, I found out that she had an ulterior motive for picking up her room. As I was putting away the towels, I heard Marie and her dad talking as she was getting ready to go to bed.

“Marie, you did a very nice job cleaning your room,” said daddy.

“I did a good job! Daddy, I even picked up my clothes and straightened my stuffed animals!” squealed Marie. She was so obviously leading up to something that I stopped to listen.       

“This will be nice tomorrow morning when you get ready for school,” said practical dad.

“Yes, and now we can dance!!” Marie jumped off her bed, grabbed her dad by the hands and they began an unusual version of the tango.

I had to laugh, but neither of them heard me, they were both giggling too loud.

You see, a clean room does have its benefits!