Sanity is but one chart away

We live in a veritable sea of charts. Reading charts. Math charts. Chore charts. Behavior charts. School charts. Home charts. We've got more stickers and check marks than any one household should have to endure. 
 

I swear we used to be fun people.

But in spite of it all, we're still lacking one key piece of the puzzle, which I refer to as the "Do What The Tall Lady Called Mom Is Asking" piece. Now, it's not like every day reaches crisis mode. But as anyone with children (or who has the misfortune of waiting behind them in line) knows, they get along. Then they don't. They listen. Then they don't. They behave. Wait, no. They don't.

Instead of complaining about it, I have decided to take a proactive stance and examine where, exactly, it all goes wrong. Based on my empirical evidence and, obviously, several charts, my final data has shown that once the communication from parent to child has broken down, things go quickly awry. [Please note that in this instance, "awry" means me screaming like an actual lunatic.]

To give you a clear understanding, our current communication cycle looks a bit like this:
1) Mom (or other adult) speaks very clearly, and most times, very loudly, asking the child(ren) to complete a very reasonable task.
2) Kids hear the request. (I know they do, we've had them checked.)
3) Kids employ creative license. (Is this even allowed?)
...which leads to:
4) Their final interpretation, which is a thing of absolute beauty. Quite often, this creative interpretation is slightly different from my original meaning. The result is that they might possibly do something in response to the adult's request, but generally not what is being asked of them. So as to avoid further confusion, I have created a final chart. The chart to end all charts, if you will. From this point forward, the boys can cross-reference what I say and then double-check its exact meaning. I expect that we as a family will now be living in harmony. Life will forevermore be without complications. I anticipate the entire experience to be glorious.

Please feel free to employ this in your own household. You have my explicit permission to adjust it as needed, or, on the off chance that your children actually do what you ask of them, then please give yourself a star for good parenting. (You can even earn another one if you pee in the potty. Well done, you!)

{The Chart That Will Change Life As We Know It}

What I say:

Make sure you clear your spot from the table when you're done eating.

What I mean:

I see that your cereal bowl is still half-full with milk, so please balance your dirty spoon in it as you run across the kitchen. I know you'll never make it without spilling, but I love to see you try. Every single morning.

What I say:

Time for school. Go out to the car, please.

What I mean:

We definitely have time for a quick game of Nerf basketball. Maybe even two? And boys, always remember, school comes second to sports. Actually, school comes third to sports AND video games. So feel no need to rush out to the car that is already running in the driveway. I do that just to make sure the Earth stays nice and healthy.

What I say:

Boys, I'm going to bring the baby up for his nap. Please keep it down.

What I mean:

Obviously, the baby is tired. But you know he's only happy when you wake him up with your loudness. So give it a few minutes, and then go crazy-ass crazy crazy crazzzzyyyyyy. Make absolutely sure to time it just right so that he'll wake out of an extra-deep sleep, though. It's silly to waste all that energy unless he's really asleep. Start working on your plan while I bring him up, and then in about thirty minutes, go wild.

What I say:

Stop picking your nose.

What I mean:

Pick it, man. Pick it with abandon. Knuckles up there. Go for it. And definitely make sure you eat it. It's super charming. And trust me, the ladies love it.

What I say:

Dinner's ready. Come sit down.

What I mean:

Please do not respond the first time I call you. Please do not respond the next time either. Bonus points if you can make me call you a full ten times. This will make me very happy, and it will result in an extra awesome fun-filled family evening. This is actually just a test to make sure you do not respond until you hear the secret code, which is "damn it." Don't make a move until you hear it.

What I say:

Time for your bath.

What I mean:

Time to drink your dirty bathwater. No, really, drink up. It's good for a growing boy. Also, you know what that bathwater seems to be lacking? Urine. Actually, nope...scratch that.

What I say:

Five more minutes until bedtime.

What I mean:

I would love to practice my own skills of negotiation while at the same time hone your early talents as a lawyer. Please, I am waiting patiently for your counter offer. And don't you even think of accepting any offer as it is first presented. These skills will serve you well in both your educational and professional endeavors. Because what this world really wants - needs, even - is one more person who cannot accomplish the most basic of responsibilities without first balking and then bartering. You, my fine gentlemen, seem to be naturally gifted in this area. You make Mommy and Daddy so proud. And you know what? You have earned an extra 45 minutes just by putting the effort into your argument. What show would you like to watch, my angels? (Might I suggest a nice, relaxing Caillou?)

~

And to my dear, dear (read: patient as ever) husband:

What I say:

I need a glass of wine.

What I mean:

No, seriously. A glass of wine. Which I'll raise to our little dictators. May they never have to work a day in their lives and always win irrational arguments. Cheers, boys. Momma loves you.