Mean mother

Alright. I’ve been feeling just a tad bit guilty, but not enough to change my mind....

A couple of hours ago, I asked the lad to bring some wood in the house. It is important to keep that wood rack filled so I have a steady supply of dry and room temperature wood to burn. When it’s time to bring wood in the house, it’s time. Not three hours later.

And, since I’m burning about twice as much wood while the lad is home (to keep his room warm) than when he’s away, I feel it is manifestly fair that he share the labor of wood hauling. So, I asked him to bring some wood in. And asked again.

And finally did it myself. As I brought the last piece in, he came downstairs to see if he could help. I was just a little short with him. But rather than get mad, I figured that getting even would be more effective.

I told him that as long as I’m the one hauling the wood in the house, it seems fair that I’m the one who should get the benefit from it. If he isn’t going to help, then I’ll heat the downstairs and save wood. I closed the quilt and the other curtain in the stairwell off. I figured it would take a couple of hours before the upstairs started getting uncomfortably cold. In the meantime, I rearranged the wood and stacked most of what I brought in around the stove to dry it out and warm it up. The other rack was mostly empty again...and waiting to be refilled.

Well, I was wrong about how long it would take for his teeth to start chattering. About an hour later, he and his friend came downstairs looking rather meek and politely asked if they could help me in any way. I said, “Why yes, as a matter of fact. The wood rack needs to be filled again. I’d really appreciate it.”

They trooped out and had that wood rack filled in 5 minutes flat. Not a word of complaint from either of them. I just smiled and said, “Thank you, fellas. There’s a pot of coffee on to warm you up. How about a little heat upstairs now?”

Gosh, that worked like a charm. I didn’t even have to yell or stomp my feet.