Let me just step out onto a limb here and say that one thing I think we can all agree on is that what this country needs is a good Chore Monkey.
Tired of scraping your own dishes? Don’t think you should be the one to run to the gas station for cigarettes, even if you’re the one planning to smoke them? Are you thinking that even a monkey would do a better job of painting your toenails than you just did?
See? This is what I’m talking about.
The Chore Monkey.
Sure, sure, I can hear you now. Chore Monkey? Isn’t that why I had kids?
Well, sure it is! But I challenge you to put a four-year-old boy and a four-year-old chimp in a race to the corner store and you tell me which one makes it back first. My money’s on the chimp.
And let’s not even get started with how Child Protective Services views a Chore Baby. Sure, you put a monkey in a pair of painter’s pants and a cap and hang him outside the second floor to clean your windows and it’s cute; but you dress up your toddler like that and let him clean the windows and suddenly there are vehicles equipped with flashing lights and sirens in front of your house.
No, no. Let’s stick with a Chore Monkey. I can make up that weird little room under the stairs, clear a shelf in my fridge – he can even borrow the car as long as he puts gas in it.
And lest you think me unfeeling, I’m offering four weeks’ paid vacation a year. And sick days. And a 401(k) retirement plan.
Wait a minute. I’ve just gotten a very uncomfortable feeling here.
Is it possible that I’m somebody’s monkey?
Tired of scraping your own dishes? Don’t think you should be the one to run to the gas station for cigarettes, even if you’re the one planning to smoke them? Are you thinking that even a monkey would do a better job of painting your toenails than you just did?
See? This is what I’m talking about.
The Chore Monkey.
Sure, sure, I can hear you now. Chore Monkey? Isn’t that why I had kids?
Well, sure it is! But I challenge you to put a four-year-old boy and a four-year-old chimp in a race to the corner store and you tell me which one makes it back first. My money’s on the chimp.
And let’s not even get started with how Child Protective Services views a Chore Baby. Sure, you put a monkey in a pair of painter’s pants and a cap and hang him outside the second floor to clean your windows and it’s cute; but you dress up your toddler like that and let him clean the windows and suddenly there are vehicles equipped with flashing lights and sirens in front of your house.
No, no. Let’s stick with a Chore Monkey. I can make up that weird little room under the stairs, clear a shelf in my fridge – he can even borrow the car as long as he puts gas in it.
And lest you think me unfeeling, I’m offering four weeks’ paid vacation a year. And sick days. And a 401(k) retirement plan.
Wait a minute. I’ve just gotten a very uncomfortable feeling here.
Is it possible that I’m somebody’s monkey?
I am pretty sure I am Chore Monkey for at least two generations. Glad to have a job title after all this time!
ReplyDeleteYep, I believe you just described yourself. Perhaps the title also could be applied to women (perhaps a few men). Now how about a loftier title that sounds better in public when asked what you do?
ReplyDeleteI could moonlight from my regular Chore Monkey job and do it for you, too. Especially with those benefits.
ReplyDeleteI'm "Chore Monkey" to a dog! How did that happen? At least I don't have to paint his toenail, and he doesn't complain much.
ReplyDeleteWatson's Barbara
I was wondering how you would end this and you nailed it!
ReplyDeleteSometimes I just fell like the monkey, never mind the chores.
ReplyDeleteWell it took you a while but you finally figured it out...yes....you ARE someone's chore monkey. I'm surprised the bald guy in your head hadn't already told you. He likes dropping bombs like that.
ReplyDeleteHari OM
ReplyDeleteAs long as the 401k includes the banana slip-out clause, you're fine... YAM xx
Monkey, kid, it doesn't matter much - I just want somebody around who can go find my remote.
ReplyDeleteWell, this post solved a personal mystery. I'm retired now but think I understand why my employee health insurance was only accepted by veterinarians.
ReplyDeleteI KNOW I'm the Chore Monkey as I seem to be the only person (at home OR at work) that knows how to get stuff done!
ReplyDeleteWell as long as you get those four weeks paid vacation and the IRA and Social Security and Medicare someday . . .
ReplyDeleteI wish I had a chore monkey. My kids are grown and out of the house, so that's another reason a monkey is better. A monkey probably won't move out to go to college.
ReplyDeleteWhatever you do, DO NOT try the Chore Cat. Ouchie.
ReplyDeleteOdd isn't it how that through what started out as a wee bit o humor has turned the ugly light of truth upon your own being. I say if you have 'em smoke 'em and if there is a kid involved, everyday is bring your kid to work day. May as well get them schooled early.
ReplyDeleteJust one acronym in the way: PETA.
ReplyDelete