This is How to Get Your Dirty Kid to Clean Up Fast

This is a method I use that never fails to get my kid to clean their room quickly, and it will work on your kid, too!

Right around the ripe old age of 13, my child concluded that I wasn’t very bright. It took me a while to notice this because they never actually said it. Something was telling in the tone of their long, drawn-out sighs and the tenor of his voice when he said, “Muuuuuuuum!”

It led me to the following epiphany;

“My kid thinks I’m an idiot.”

The worst part of this epiphany was that I couldn’t disagree. I’ve made some questionable choices over the years. Just the other day, for instance, I let my kid have macaroni and cheese in their room.

I’m in their bedroom today to grab dirty laundry. I see a plate of leftover mac and cheese on the night table. Something is moving on the pile of noodles. Dreading an infestation of some nasty bug, I take a closer look.

Microbes born of mac n cheese have evolved into a sentient species. The species have created a society. They are carrying moldy noodles on their shoulders to build a macaroni ziggurat.

I arm myself with Pine-Sol, but I don’t know if I feel right pouring it on their heads. “I’ve decided we will call this a science experiment. You may live another day, Macaronians,” I say to myself.

Of course, out loud, I use my best and sternest “Mom voice” to address my kid, “You won’t be allowed to eat in your room if you don’t clean after yourself. We can’t have new civilizations building up in here every time you want a snack in bed.”

“Mum.”

My kid is using their best “patient child putting up with an idiot mom” voice, “Mum, what you are proposing on imposing makes no logical sense. We cannot deny beings their right to live just because you want a so-called clean house. We live in a democracy!”

I laugh. My child is so naïve, but I will educate them, “Oh, no, no, no. That’s where you are wrong, Son. Our household is a Monarchy, and Mama is Queen.”

Boo-Yah! Mic drop!

No, I DIDN’T!

I’m moonwalking now because

I JUST DID.

“Mum.”

Thinking of “Queen,” I begin singing Bohemian Rhapsody loudly, “THUNDERBOLT AND LIGHTNING VERY, VERY FRIGHTENING!”

“MUM!!! If I get this cleaned up, will you please stop, for the love of God?”

I’m not responding at this point. I’m in way too deep to stop.

“Mama Mia! Mama Mia! Mama Mia, let me go!”

I don’t have a chance to get to the headbanging part of my performance. My kid is tidying up, zipping around their room in fast-forward. They even made the bed!

“I’m done, Mum.”

I look around a sparkling clean bedroom, hoping to find something wrong. I’m a bit disappointed to see they’ve done an excellent job. I was so ready to rock it!

My kid scrapes the leftover mac n cheese into the trashcan. An avalanche of noodles muffles the sound of a million tiny screams.

I moonwalk quietly out the door with a silent salute.

Goodbye Macaronians. May you prosper in your next life.