‘Child, clean up your mess, I’m not your slave’

When I’m at the football stadium on a Sunday afternoon, my girlfriend Ilse gives me an app: ‘Joan, I’m going to report you to Youth Care’, followed by smiling and crying smileys. At that moment Ilse and friend Kenneth are looking after my son Callum, who is just three years old. They eat the butter cakes we baked that morning.

After two cakes, at least half of which have fallen to the floor in crumbs, Callum walks to the garage, pulls the vacuum cleaner out of the compartment and enters with it. He asks Kenneth to plug it in for him and vacuums up the crumbs. Reason for my girlfriend to text me in horror: “This is not normal, is it, the child is three years old and you let him vacuum?” That’s right.

Peace, Cleanliness and Regularity

If the three R’s of Rest, Cleanness and Regularity didn’t already exist, I would have invented them. Especially cleanliness. I dare to admit that I am a mild obsessive neurot when it comes to cleanliness. Nothing makes me happier than a tidy house and cupboards arranged by color and alphabet.

During my pregnancy I was warned from all sides: I would change if I were a mother. Children just thrive on clutter and a spick and span house is impossible with a child. Soon after the birth of son Callum I had to admit that it is largely true. In addition to collecting junk yourself – think baby monitor, wipes, bottles, pacifiers – your child also gets a toy collection that mainly accumulates in the living room. And then we are not even talking about the mess that such a self-child makes.

This can be done differently

For two years I was spraying like crazy with Dettol and when Callum was in bed for three minutes I already cleaned up his toys. Until I decided: this can be done differently. The example I gave my son, as cute as it may be, was that Mommy would ‘clean it up’. Turn the Duplobak over with two hands in one fell swoop, without taking one stone and then walk away triumphantly? I didn’t feel like serving as a personal servant for the rest of his life. I explained to Callum that I was not his slave. Not me, but from now on he put the Duplo back in the bin and if he preferred to sprinkle his sandwich with fruit sprinkles on the ground, he could clean it up too.

Pathetic? Well, no

Pathetic? Well, no. He loved it when I first pushed the vacuum cleaner rod into his hands. Nothing for him My First Miele, but ordinary the real thing. Callum is now almost six and tidying up is pretty ingrained. It is very normal for him to help out. After spilling Fristi, he picks up a cloth himself. He also does other chores like setting the table and greasing his bread and I send him out on the street after dinner with the household waste card. In our neighborhood, we have to take our garbage bags to an underground system five hundred meters from our house. I’ll let him do it, even if it means crossing a street and holding my heart for three and a half minutes. But he swells with pride when he’s done his job.

Parents are good at patronizing

There is nothing better for a child than independence. His teacher thinks so too. Callum attends a Montessori school where he is already being trained in self-doing. There used to be a sign at the kindergarten groups ‘Please do not help your child put on his coat’.

That has disappeared, but the teacher does endorse the underlying message: “Parents are so good at patronizing. They prefer to do everything for their children. Of course from the very best of intentions, but they are going through it. We often compliment when a child looks nice, but I would rather let a child choose their own clothes and praise it for that. This gives him a sense of self-worth. And if your child has to cross a busy road, I would ask him in advance what the possible dangers could be and how he would anticipate them. Then tell him that you are proud that he looked so good when crossing the road. ”

Give more freedom

Callum’s teacher is convinced that children more or less educate themselves and that you as parents only determine the framework. Do not remove all bumpers. Help less, give more freedom. “Every time we start the day with gym lessons, I point out to parents that their toddler can get his own gym bag from the closet. And that a four-year-old child can put on his own gym pants. On the contrary, it gives them a good feeling when they can zip up their jacket or tie their shoelaces. ”

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The little prince in the house

Angela, the mother of Callum’s friend Marc (5), thinks it is all nonsense. “Just let me comb Marc’s hair and put on his swimming trunks. They grow up so quickly. I can see that in my twelve-year-old daughter Bo, she no longer needs me at all. I just want to pamper my child, I enjoy that myself. “

I notice that Marc is used to everything being done for him when he comes to play after school. Gentleman only likes his apple peeled and chopped and refuses to take his plate and cup to the kitchen. That is not necessary at home, so why here? The ultimate thing is that he wants me to wipe his buttocks. That’s where I draw the line. The child is five and a half. Ultimately, Callum does it for him. I notice in everything that Marc is the little prince at home who assumes that his wishes will be fulfilled immediately.

Hates arguing

Girlfriend Margriet (39) herself did not realize that her care had gradually shifted to the role of homeless worker. Her eyes opened when she was barked at lunch by Kate, her seven-year-old daughter. “I kept running back and forth between the table and the kitchen. Just as I sat down again, I heard a screeching “MILK!” Then I knew: something is going wrong here. I realized I had gone overboard in my motherhood. If Kate didn’t want to tidy up her room, I didn’t argue, I did it myself. I am not very consistent and I hate to argue. But now I have a daughter who doesn’t do anything in the house and thinks it’s quite normal that mom and dad clean up her mess. ”

Feed occasionally

I do recognize something in Margriet’s laziness. For example, I never let Callum go to school on his own bike because I go much faster with him on the back. But I often go cycling with him, so that he learns how to travel in traffic. And the sandwiches that he makes himself and the sausage, potatoes and broccoli cut by him? Well, he really wants to get them fed. He, my extremely tough, independent son of five and three-quarters, can enjoy it so much that I do that now and then. Secretly, if no one is watching.

This article has previously appeared in Kek Mama.

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