Before I had children, I really thought that my wonderful lovelies would be able to know what a trashcan was by the time they were, oh...say at least two years old. Three years old? You know, because as a dutiful mom I would have shown them since they began walking where to put trash. Because they would be helping me tidy up and all that.
Jessie is almost 8, there are the boys, and then Kacy is 12. I'm still teaching them the concept of a trash can.
I'm also still teaching them the concept of "Brushing your teeth without toothpaste is like washing your hair without shampoo. It doesn't WORK."
I was sick for a week and a half starting Christmas night. My energy was gone. So, naturally I didn't wander outside to clean out the car. Besides, I had kept reminding them every they got out, "Grab your stuff! Take what's yours into the house."
Christmas trash was everywhere. Books, papers, and pencils littered the floor. The thing that was most disgusting was that I stuck my finger in an unknown gooey substance on the floor. Half eaten candy canes were stuck in the cup holders. Orange peels (which smell good for a few days and then DON'T) were littered across the floor.
My 10 year old new to me car is supposed to be nice, here people. It looks nice from the outside most of the time. It runs well. But here it is, being used as a trash can. My kids were lucky they were at school because I needed the time to cool down. I was making irrational threats in my head. You know, the threats that go like this: "If they were here they would be in so much trouble. I would make them finish these candy canes that are glued to everything. NO MORE EATING IN THE CAR."
Which is a huge joke because honestly, we drive miles and hours just to get anywhere, and we all know a little stuck candy cane is better than listening to whining for an eternity.
Those trash can skills...when do they happen?
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