ChoreBoy

Every parent wants their kids to grow up to be productive members of society. Loosely translated, that means: if they are taught to cook some, clean some, work some, save some, love some and laugh some, they'll eventually move out.

The lower-division coursework began at three, with refilling toy boxes and straightening beds. At seven and eight, they helped prepare meals and sweep the garage. Upper division began at ten, with mowing and trimming the yard and rotating through indoor chores. By twelve they had advanced to laundry and money management.

I thought I was on the right track until one evening I observed one of my teenage sons doing laundry. We were companionably standing together in the laundry room, the way you do when you're both busy, and he chatted about practice and school as he turned on the washer, filled it with filthy boy togs and tossed in a capfull of liquid. I waited and watched him close the lid and start down the hall.

Hey wait up, mister. What about soap?

He heaved a weary sigh and returned to the washer, pulling the container down from the shelf to show me what he had added to the water. I opened the storage container from between the appliances and pointed to the granular soap dispenser of Tide.

Now I had his attention! He peered over my shoulder at the dry soap and then lifted the bottle in his hand to read the label. It was Downy.