Yesterday Camryn discovered the art of card making. She was bored and came up to my office seeking entertainment. I pointed out the cardmaking supplies, gave her a couple of idea books and the scraps and off she went. She's pretty good at it. Best of all, it makes her happy.
So this afternoon Camryn once again went up to the office to make cards. I did a few chores, then joined her in my office. As I hit the top step, the clutter from the playroom side of the office smacked me in the face (not literally, but it's almost as bad as really being slapped. I abhor clutter.)
I sighed as I parked myself in my chair and said something to the affect of, "I swear, I hate that pile of junk. One day I'm just going to put it all in a trash bag and throw it away."
Camryn said, "I'll clean it for you."
I waited.
And waited.
But the "if you pay me" part of her sentence never came. She just got up and started cleaning.
Zoinks, Shaggy. Is this really my house?
I told her I'd pay her $20 (it was a HUGE mess). She just shrugged and said, "Okay".
She's working for minutes. TracFone minutes. They are more precious than gold to her right now.
But I'm puzzled that she didn't first ask for payment before getting to work.
That part is strange.
But whatever. I'll take it.
No comments:
Post a Comment