<p>Ordinarily, if someone said they’d like to clean our house, I’d probably be miffed. But the ones offering to clean the house were little girls, related to us by blood, looking for a way to earn spending money.</p><p>Who doesn’t want children to learn the link between work and reward? It’s a double bonus if the work is being done at your house.</p><p>They had written chores and the amounts they would charge on little slips of paper that they shook out of a small plastic bag. Windows for 10 cents, baseboards for 50 cents, dusting for a penny and vacuuming for 25 cents. The price structure was odd, but every budding tycoon starts somewhere.</p><p>They were affordable and eager, and the baseboards hadn’t been cleaned in ages.</p><p>They arrived in the morning in work clothes and attacked the baseboards with wet soapy cleaning rags, smiles on their faces and songs in their hearts. It was pure inspiration. I don’t think I’ve ever been that cheerful cleaning the kitchen.</p><p>Maybe I need to start paying myself with small coins. Or large bills.</p><p>“Boy, your house sure is dirty,” one said gleefully.</p><p>“It sure is,” chimed in a second.</p><p>“There’s coffee everywhere!” exclaimed another.</p><p>One started cleaning cabinet doors, even opening them and cleaning them on the inside. I was living the good life all right.</p><p>“Grandma, you want us to clean the crumbs inside the cabinets or just clean the boards below the cabinets?”</p><p>I was about to justify coffee and crumbs, when the youngest stood up and softly said, “I quit.”</p><p>“What do you mean you quit?”</p><p>“Well, we cleaned for a neighbor and it was a lot better than this. She gave us each a spray bottle, a new sponge and a little pan to put our tools in.”</p><p>I’ve heard younger workers are more demanding today, and now I was looking one in her 6-year-old face.</p><p>“But if you quit now, I’ll have to dock your pay.”</p><p>She handed me her wet scrub rag, tossed back her hair and announced she was going to find Mommy.</p><p>“You’re doing a good job, girls,” I called to the ones still on task. The last thing I needed was a worker walkout.</p><p>“How much do you think we’ll make, Grandma?”</p><p>“At least five dollars,” I said.</p><p>“It’s a lot of work for the money.”</p><p>Tell me about it.</p><p>They did a stellar job and we settled up, doling out coins and bills for the enumerated jobs.</p><p>Their mother appeared and took a dollar from one to illustrate the principle of paying taxes. The others, quick on their feet, dashed to backpacks and tucked their money inside, hence, averting taxes.</p><p>We treated the workers by ordering pizza for lunch and one of the girls asked how much breadsticks cost.</p><p>I told her, she paused briefly before slipping away then reappeared with money for breadsticks.</p><p>“That’s my working money,” she said, with a smile and a sigh.</p><p>Welcome to the club.</p>
