I've always told my boys the day they start paying bills is the day I stop asking them to help out around the house.  Since one boy is 12 and one boy is 7, I'm not holding my breath for a rent payment any time soon.

Truth be told, when I was a kid I swore my parents only had kids so they'd have someone to fold the laundry, clean the kitchen and bring the remote.  As a parent now, I'd like to go back in time and backhand lil Jamie across the living room.

And since we're truthing (can't believe spell check considers that a word) it here I'll go ahead and say I'm a relative softie compared to the prison labor camp my mom ran.  Tyler didn't start folding clothes until he was 11, and he's still terrible at it.  By 11 I could have run my own laundromat.

It's that reasoning that pushed me to my limit on Sunday when I heard things like, "But daaaaaad, my hands match my red sweatshirt they're so cold".  A backhand might have been called for, but I use sarcasm and the public forum from which I speak every day to embarrass/shame them into putting out more effort next time.

Yeah, right.