My son selectively invites me into his world; sometimes the door stands wide open and he is like, "Mom, der, where are you?" Other times the door is shut and I am expected to knock and ask permission to enter accepting grunts as replies instead of sentences without looking twice.
Here is his latest invite on social media nonetheless:
I leave my boys lists so they have choices. It is far more pleasant than nagging them all week or weekend long to help me. I list our chores; they choose the ones they would like to complete and then they choose when to complete as long as the completion occurs within the dates I have listed. It is somewhat of a passive aggressive power struggle.
So is Wade's tweet - illustrating to the entirety of his twitter followers just how dusty we let his chest of drawers get.
When I knocked on the door tonight, he invited me in. We talked about the day and as I turned to leave, I noticed that he had indeed dusted every piece of furniture, but he had left strips of thick dust untouched except for the messages he wrote in the dust.
"I did good"
"I love you, Mom."
I took the two empty Fresca cans and the partially filled Whataburger cups out of the quasi clean room and whispered to his sister, "I know. Spoiled."
I like being invited.
I have twelve more months to dance this dance of "did you do your chores..." I am going to savor each dance and if he writes me another message in the dust, I am hoping he takes another picture and lets the world know again that he loves his mother.