Mopping

Last time I mopped, it was one of Jay’s more traumatic days because I barricaded him in the carpeted bedroom while the floor was all wet. He wailed and wailed, and stressed me out. My wise, innovative, dear mother reminded me how SHE dealt with similar issues:

[That’s my little sister Melody about 10 years ago]

So I dug out our only two old rags and improvised a similar solution for Jay. I had to rubber band them to his feet, and they got wet pretty fast, but I managed to mop most of the house before he figured out how to take them off!

Crisis averted: Jay was a happy camper while I mopped, which helped me do one of my least favorite chores with a little less unpleasantness. Another thing that helped me was: I cranked up Handel’s Messiah and sang along while I did the “dip-squeeze- slap-squelch-scrub-repeat” mopping cycle.

“All we like sheep!”

“Commmmmmmm-fort ye my people.”

“And he shall purify-y-y-y-y-y-y-y-y-y-y-y-yyyyyy!”

Mopping was bearable for the FIRST TIME EVER!