We received a couple of packages last night. One of them was filled with packing peanuts, in addition to the stuff we’d ordered. We asked the boy to place the boxes out in the garage, and he did so.
But in the process he managed to spray packing peanuts all over the floor of the garage. In a classic child maneuver, he simply left the mess on the floor of the garage.
The Wife was the first one to call him out and insist he cleanup the mess he made. He did so, but not before vociferously voicing his displeasure at the prospect. He came in several minutes later and went back to more important things, like arranging rubber bands for making bracelets.
Sometime later, I ventured out into the garage. There were still peanuts laying on the floor.
I turned and asked him “I thought you cleaned up the peanuts in the garage?”
“I DID,” he said with just a touch of defensiveness.
“Well, then why are there still peanuts lying on the floor of the garage?”
What followed was something just short of breathtaking.
“WHAT? DO YOU EXPECT ME TO PICK UP EVERY LAST PEANUT OUT THERE?” he yelled. Just a touch defensively. The veins in his neck were sticking out.
“That’s what cleaning up meant, last I checked.”
“HOW AM I SUPPOSED TO DO THAT?” He was turning red.
“With your hands, maybe?” I suggested. It was hard not to be amused at his tantrum.
“DO YOU HAVE ANY IDEA HOW HARD IT IS TO PICK UP PEANUTS?” he bellowed as he stomped off towards the garage.
Well, guess he told me. Incidentally, he managed to pull it off. Somehow.