I used to dread hearing those words. I remember my attempts at cleaning; I’d pick up a few stray popcorn kernels but leave the rest of the mess while I returned to my beloved TV series. My dad would come back time and again, and I thought if I could make him do it enough, he’d give in and say, “Just give me the broom; I’ll handle it.” But he never did. Instead, he insisted I complete the task, and he wouldn’t let me go until it was finished, and done well.
Now, as a father to my own 8-year-old son, I see those same traits emerging in him. The impatience, the desire to return to cartoons, and the sighs of annoyance when I point out his lackluster efforts are all too familiar. I’ve even noticed the exaggerated movements he makes while cleaning. Can you really sweep with a hint of sarcasm? Apparently, you can—if you’re an 8-year-old reluctant to do chores.
I can’t help but think there must be a formula for this: the frequency with which fathers say, “Do a good job,” seems inversely related to how well the child actually performs the task. Essentially, the more I nag, the less effective my message becomes.
I remember all too well how my own father’s attempts to instill a work ethic in me often backfired. He would say, “If you learn one thing in this house, let it be this: always do your best.” Ironically, knowing how much it mattered to him only made me resist the lesson even more. I would do the bare minimum, just enough to make him regret asking me to help. I was determined to outlast him, but in the end, he prevailed. His strategy was clear: if I wanted to dawdle, we would be cleaning all day until every last popcorn piece was picked up.
When did I finally change? Honestly, I’m not sure. It might have been during middle school or even later. Eventually, I started to realize the satisfaction that comes with taking pride in one’s work. I began to clean, complete my homework diligently, and even tackled tasks around the house without being asked.
Another truth I must share: I’m trying to inspire that same sense of pride in my son. Occasionally, I see glimpses of success, like when he leaves a space cleaner than he found it without prompting. I can’t help but celebrate those moments, often dragging my wife over to show her. I even make a call to someone to rave about his efforts, ensuring he hears every word.
However, for the most part, he remains firmly entrenched in the slacker zone when it comes to chores. I’ve tried to take a softer approach, maintaining a calm and straightforward tone, simply stating, “You’re not finished yet.” Perhaps if I make it less confrontational, he’ll come around eventually.
It seems to be a universal truth that fathers and sons often bump heads during these formative years. I’ve talked with other dads, and we all agree that having a coach or teacher work with our kids is often more effective. Strangely enough, it’s usually the same lesson I’ve tried to convey, but somehow, it resonates more with them than it does with me. His eye-roll says it all: “You don’t know anything, Dad.”
I knew this phase was inevitable. This is the start of those awkward teenage years when I’m no longer the go-to source of wisdom. His stubbornness far exceeds what I ever possessed. But my approach won’t change. I’ll remain here, patiently watching until he gets it right. I even have a bowl of popcorn ready for the occasion.
This article was originally published on May 1, 2015. If you’re curious to explore more, check out this piece on intracervical insemination.
In conclusion, parenting often means trying to instill values while navigating the challenges that come with it. While it can be a struggle, finding moments of success makes it all worthwhile. For anyone looking for additional guidance, the CDC offers an excellent resource on pregnancy and home insemination, as well as insights from Make a Mom about at-home insemination kits.