I could never get my kid to clean her room. Perhaps it was because it contained roughly double the amount of stuff it could neatly contain (probably more, but I’ll go with that for now).
Mine is the kid that saves everything, treasures it all, and has a memory like an elephant. There could be no slipping anything more than recyclable paper to the can without detection, misery and a possible trip to the therapist (me or her? you decide). Cajoling? Nope. Threatening? She stood her ground.
It doesn’t help — in terms of accumulation of crap — that she’s adorable, jubilant, has many interests and friends, and is the only grandchild.
It took me ages to realize that my child’s room wasn’t just overwhelming to me; it was so overwhelming to her that she couldn’t possibly know where to begin. The kid brushed off the idea that clutter was a problem, so I finally decided to test that idea a bit. Continue reading