The Helpful Games

IN WHICH I POWER-RANK MY CHILDREN IN ORDER OF THEIR GENERAL USEFULNESS AROUND THE HOUSE

ROUND ONE: CLEANING UP TOYS

Okay guys, we need to clean up the Legos. Every single Lego needs to get picked up and put in the blue Lego bag over there. Got it? Go.

EZRA

Sits down, then puts forehead on floor. Sl-o-o-w-ly picks up a single, solitary Lego brick. Scoots belly-down like a slug over to Lego bag. Sits up, stares at ceiling. Holds hand over bag and lets Lego fall through fingers. Lego hits the bag and immediately bounces back out onto floor. Collapses in exhaustion. 

Score: 1/5

NOAH

This is going to take forever. FOREVER. How long is this going to take? FOREVER. I never get to do anything because I have to clean up all the time and also FOREVER. I'm not cleaning those Legos up because I'm still playing with them. And I'm not cleaning those Legos up because even though they are right in front of me I have gone selectively blind. I will clean those Legos up, at least, but only after I've spent 10 minutes complaining about them, which equals approximately three-and-a-half FOREVERS.

Score: 3/5

IKE

Hurls Legos to floor, runs. Has Legos in mouth, probably.

Score: 0/5

ROUND TWO: HAND ME THAT THING

Okay guys, hand me that thing. That thing right in front of you. Right, that thing. 

EZRA

Hands me that thing, immediately and enthusiastically, but knocks over an entire cup of juice in the process.

Score: 3/5

NOAH

What thing? This thing?

Me: NO, WRONG THING. 

What is a thing?

Me: *EXPLAINS THING* 

What does a thing look like?

Me: *DESCRIBES THING; COLOR, PURPOSE, MATERIAL, ETC.*

Where is the thing?

Me: RIGHT THERE, IN FRONT OF YOU.

Oh! Okay. One minute.

*leaves, heads to bathroom, brings back the sink drain stopper*

This thing?

Score: 1/5, for effort

IKE

Hurls thing to floor, runs. Has other thing that I need in mouth, probably.

Score: 0/5

ROUND THREE: OH LAWDY IT'S A JUICE SPILL

Okay guys, someone's spilled some juice. What do you do?

EZRA 

Is totally the one who spilled the juice. Will totally sit there and do nothing (while sitting in bonus puddle of maple syrup that will also go unnoticed and undealt-with). When asked what they teach him at that fancy-pants Montessori school that he and a good deal of our money go to everyday, will respond by getting a towel and throwing it sort-of in the direction of the spill. Will then tap towel with foot before recoiling in sticky disgust and return to his syrup-covered seat.

Score: 1/5

NOAH

Ezra spilled his juice Ezra spilled his juice Mom Mom Mom Ezra spilled his juice Mom it's going everywhere oh no Mom Mom Mom Ezra spilled his juice it's on the floor now too Mom Mom Mom Mom.

Score: 1/5, mostly for the Amy Poehler impression

IKE

Hurls spill-proof sippy cup to the floor, because THAT'S how you don't spill juice, bitches. Not sure what your damage is.

Score: 1/5

ROUND FOUR: THROW THIS OUT

Okay guys, we've cleaned up the juice spill with some paper towels. Please throw them out.

EZRA

Gets immediately and irrationally attached to Mister Paper Towel Wad. Mister Paper Towel Wad is later found in his backback/lunchbox/"house"/bed, covered in ants.

Score: 0/5

NOAH

After a five-minute lecture about the environment and whether or not we can reuse Mister Paper Towel Wad, followed by another five minutes of anxiety over whether or not Mister Paper Towel Wad would be recyled as another paper towel specifically and not something different, I give up and throw Mister Fucking Paper Towel Wad into the trash myself, then lie about sending him upstate to live on a nice big paper towel farm. 

Score: 0/5

IKE

Happily and joyfully throws it out. Because throwing things out is his FAVORITE. Things that he also threw out today include a perfectly serviceable sippy cup, my good nail file, Legos, four unopened cans of tuna fish and our voter registration forms.

Score: 4/5

ROUND FIVE: PUT YO SHOES ON

Okay guys, it's time to go. Put yo shoes on.

EZRA

Okay! 

*gets sneakers, puts them on*

No, these are for Friday, when I am a grown-up.

*takes sneakers off, puts Crocs on*

No, it is raining today. 

*takes Crocs off, puts rainboots on*

Me: PLEASE NOTE THAT IT IS NOT RAINING.

*takes rainboots off, puts snowboots on*

Me: PLEASE NOTE THAT IT IS 70 DEGR- AW FUCK IT. GOOD JOB, EZ!

Score: 5/5

NOAH

Where are my shoes where are my shoes I can't find my shoes where did I leave my shoes oh no my shoes are gone FOREVER and I will never find them FOREVER AGAIN I'm just not going anywhere ever and

*trips over shoes sitting in plain sight, in middle of living room floor*

Oh hey I found them Mom!

Me: GOOD JOB, NOAH!

Score: 5/5

IKE

Shhz? Shhz! Shhz shhz go bye car shhz! 

*actually goes and gets his shhz, tries valiantly to put them on himself before bringing them to me*

Hawp? Shhz? Mama? Mama hawp shhz?

Score: 5/5, because ADORABLE 

RESULTS:

10 points each out of a possible 25. Three-way tie. Overall usefulness around the house still woefully subpar, but hey, at least they are all super-cute. 

Our House, In the Middle of the Living Room

Because I am mean and horrible (and/or about to shit a primary-colored plastic brick if I step on one more goddamned bloody Lego), I recently banished all toys from our living room. All. All the toys. Hereby, I declare: None toys in the living room. 

Originally, in an aspirational what-family-do-I-think-lives-here frenzy, I gave board games a pass. I stacked them up neatly in a relocated buffet behind the couch, all pieces sorted and intact, a organzational masterpiece that lasted exactly 15 minutes before Ike pulled every single game out and upended them all over the floor. 

So if we WERE the kind of family that held regular Game Nights*, the only option at this point would be some bastardized unholy version of Sorry, I Let the Pigeon Drive the Bus to Your Operation While Wearing a HedBanz and Then Some Underfed Hippos Ated The Hospital and A Bunch of Hotels. But you'd have to pretend to roll the dice; we no longer have any.

*Note: We are not. We are all entirely too competitive and it always ends badly. Also, Noah cheats. I SAW YOU MOVE AN EXTRA SPACE. IT'S NOT FAIR. I WAS WINNING. JA-A-SON, STOP LOOKING AT ME LIKE THAT. 

Ahem. ANYWAY. Point is, I moved all their toys to the basement playroom and meticulously organized everything into baskets and stations by toy type and category. Trains, wooden. Transportation, other, assorted metal. Food, plastic, wood, felt. Cups, picnic-related. Cups, stacking. You get the general OCD idea. 

Which of course means my children want nothing to do with any of those downstairs toys anymore (so classist!), and this has now taken up permanent residence in the middle of my living room:

This = a house. OBVIOUSLY. Did you not notice the chimney? With the fire and everything?

(Yes, that is The Napkin. Though Noah is less entranced with it now that it's come undone a couple times and my napkin rosette-rolling skills are apparently not restaurant quality.)

I'm sure it's a surprise to absolutely no one that this is all Ezra's doing. 

It's gone through a few architectural changes (depending on pre/post-trash day cardboard box availability), and is surprisingly roomy.

I am currently under very strict orders not to "break the house." Even Noah barely got his pillow back last night. 

Which means the first order of business this morning was install a replacement door.

While Ezra was distracted with breakfast, I admit I did some snooping to see the furnishings.

Hmm.

Because every house needs 1) a dog, 2) half-a-dozen plastic milks, 3) yellow money, 4) ice tongs, 5) picnic food, 6) a wooden cucumber and 7) a Thomas train and Dinoco helicopter.

When questioned, Ezra insisted that all those toys weren't, in fact, in the living room. That's the house's KITCHEN ROOM. The other basket is the house's living room, and it's empty. No toys there, Mom.

LOGIC = FLAWLESS. Outsmarted once again, alas.