Tornado

This was what my brothers and I would shout before cleaning our room. We would then spin around and continue shouting the word; letting it drag on with our voices. Like holding a long note when singing. Like holding your breath to see how long you can do it. "Tornaaaaaaadoooooooooooooooooooooooooooo!"

After we spun around in a few circles, but before we got too dizzy and sick, we'd begin working as fast as we could. Making our beds, picking up our dirty clothes, putting clean clothes away, throwing toys in our closet or under our bed, stacking school supplies and books on our dresser, making the room presentable. Presentable enough to pass inspection. It was a way to have fun while doing our chores. And it worked.

Worked today too. Only this time with Frederic and Lily. When I explained that we were going to straighten up the house while Cyndi was away finishing a Brownie's service project with another mom, the kids were none too pleased. I wanted to get out of the house when Cyndi came back. I wanted to get some things done away from home. But the house needed to be picked up. And I didn't want to do it alone. I had to think quick on my feet.

I thought about the time my dad promised us a reward after we cleaned the whole house. We were living on Wellington Street, the two-bedroom quad we lived in prior to moving into the four (then five) bedroom house. The quad wasn't that big, but to three little boys, it was a mansion. We worked hard to get the whole house picked up. We were anxious for our reward. Maybe it was going to be candy, we thought. Maybe our dad would take us to lunch, or to a movie. It was neither.

When we finished our chores and went to retrieve our rewards, Dad told us to hold out our hands. As instructed we excitedly placed them out, palms up. Into each hand, Dad placed a shiny quarter. A quarter could get you a lot more than it does today; probably a couple of candy bars, at least. But we all felt gypped. In fact, I think Darrell may have even said something like, "Ahh, man...that's not fair." We all probably did, following big brother's lead. But we did a job--a good one, if I must say so myself--and we got a reward. No matter how big or small. It was something.

So, as the kids grew weary and sad that part of the early afternoon involved chores, I remembered a simple word. I remembered how much fun we would have when we yelled and spun around. We got the job done, every time, no matter what we got in the end. It's a cherished memory for me, and I paid it forward today.

The three of us took each other's hands (something my brothers and I didn't do), started spinning around as if we were playing "Ring Around the Rosie," and shouted, "Tornaaaadooooooooooooooo!"

The place has never looked better.