It's finally happened. I've started to say it. The dreaded, "When I was your age..."
I used it today. And not in a very nice way. I just wanted the kids to *help* pick up the mess they made. That's all. Just *help*. But they wouldn't. And then it happened. In my angry mom voice, I said, "When I was Little Viking's age, I had to clean my entire room by myself! By the time I was eleven, my mom made us clean the whole house every day, including moving furniture, and our house had three stories! SOMEONE TELL ME WHY ASKING YOU TO PICK UP A FEW BLOCKS IS A BIG DEAL?????"
And honestly, I don't feel great about my mom tantrum. It was not the most mature thing I've ever done. And, in case you are wondering if all the things I said to my kids about my childhood are true, then yes, they are. Mostly. I might have exaggerated some of it a little bit. We only cleaned the main level of the house, plus the couple of flights of stairs. But we did have to move the furniture.