Who Needs a Cleaning Lady When Your 3-Year-Old Is a Cleaning Machine

My daughter is my clone.

From the curly-Q hair that encircles her head like a halo to her quirky sense of fashion to her luminous brown eyes and dimply butt, she's my girl.

Excepting for one one teeny, tiny thing.

She's fastidious.


Now, that's not me saying, "I'm a gigantic gross slob that throws my garbage so until it's turned into compost in a pile around my computer chair." It's me saying, "Five people in the house -- I'm the only one who cleans on any sort of a regular basis. Oh, and I work full-time, too."

So it was about time I found a child who could do my bidding; act as my monkey butler, and help me out around the house. I just didn't expect -- being my clone and all -- it would be her. But it is.

"Maaaaaama!" she screamed, making my name last about 40 seconds as she bounded into the room, curls bouncing, finally covering her scar. She was ALL kinds of riled up -- I assumed it had something to do with her brothers (siblings, man), because that's usually what that sort of excitement means.

"Yeah, Baby?" I said to her, as she bounced up and down, using my leg to steady herself. I wondered briefly if she'd have a career in gymnastics, but decided she -- like me -- was probably too clumsy.

"MAMA, dere's an UCKA in the bathroom!" she said to me, the revulsion clear in her eyes.

"Oh?" I asked, eyes widening. Maybe one of the cats pooped in there or one of the boys used the toilet seat as their personal urination station.

"YES, COME WITH ME," she demanded, grabbing my arm with a strength I didn't expect from a 3-year-old. She's always doing unexpected things like that -- it's part of her charm.

Carefully, she led me to the bathroom where she pointed at a blob of toothpaste placed oddly on the floor by the toilet.

"See, Mama? It's REALLLY sticky," she informed me. "Let's clean it up!"

With that, she scampered off to get some diaper wipes to clean the mess. I could hear her talking to her Lovie, Capitol Kitty, as she returned to the bathroom. I'd have helped her get the wipes, but she'd have bitten my head straight off. "I do MYSELF," is the motto of age 3 'round these here parts.

That's why Mimi, Capitol Kitty, and I sat around on the bathroom floor, scrubbing toothpaste up for at least an hour. Sure, I could've gotten a bucket and sponge, but Mimi is of the opinion that no floor can be too wet, which means that we'd all have broken our necks.

Instead, we let Capitol Kitty help and working together, the three of us happily cleaned the bathroom.

While that sounds like a boring way to spend an afternoon, I assure you, I haven't had that much fun in ages.

Or ever.


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