Never to busy to help a child...

Teaching, teaching, teaching. It seems like I am always taking the time to teach my children tools that will help them understand the necessity of helping out as a member of the family. That is my goal. That is my mantra. No lesson is too small to skip over or too great to suspend what I am doing and take a teaching timeout to instruct my children in life’s lessons.

It was one such beautiful morning when I was trying to impress upon these young minds the benefit of cleaning. I was helping my children clean the house and simultaneously trying my best to offer up a profound lesson that would sink in and make a powerful impression on their young minds. For cleanliness is next to godliness.

As my mind was racing to find the right teaching tool or opportunity, I stumbled across a half eaten apple core and three or four candy wrappers. In addition to this, I found some make-up and some toilet paper lying in the middle of the floor. Next to these used products was a consumed juice box and 15 or so gum wrappers that were haphazardly thrown on the floor.

As any good parent would do when presented with such a wonderful teaching opportunity, I FREAKED out. I calmly (read: yelled at the top of my lungs) asked each and every one of my children to come down into the living room where I presented my findings to them. I asked them why they were not able to determine the difference between the front room, a place where we try to promote a nice, clean and relaxing environment and the garbage, a stinky place where we throw away our used refuge.

However, I was disappointed with the response I received and decided it was time to take the lesson to the next level. The goal of my lesson was to teach them (me, always teaching and inspiring, like Robin Williams in Mrs. Doubtfire) that there were places for some things and not for others and that all our belongings have a place.

As my mind wondered what would help teach this lesson, I grabbed onto something so clear and powerful it had to be used. It was at precisely that moment that I lowered my pants and started to relieve myself in the front room – now keep in mind, I did not really relieve myself in the front room, I mean that is just sick, I just pretended to do it.

Now it was their turn to FREAK out. They were crying. “Daddy, don’t do it,” echoed from their mouths as they feared the desecration of the front room. But I had to push it. I bellowed in my loudest voice, “Boston, run to the top of the stairs and fetch me some toilet paper, I am going to need it.” More moans and crying followed my command, as my confused son was stuck somewhere between following my orders and trying to talk enough sense into me that I would finally pull up pants.

After what seemed like an eternity, I pulled up my pants sat down, and said, “Now, does anyone have any doubt that there is a separate and distinct place for everything?”

And while they were all too emotionally scared to speak, I felt like a true lesson had been learned.