Dealing with a messy situation

First, let’s let Joe Bell off the hook. As many of you know, Joe

took the time to remark nine days ago how the Angels were going to

make the playoffs; that they are for real (I am paraphrasing). Now,

as anyone who follows baseball, business or freeway traffic knows,

you never, ever jinx yourself. You never remark at how light the

traffic is or how great business is (it could always be better). With

baseball, you don’t “have it” until you have it.

But Joe threw caution to the wind and declared the Angel playoff

situation in the refrigerator. Truthfully, I agreed with him but I

didn’t want to say it or write it. The collective sigh you heard that

day was Newport-Mesa wishing that Joe had not written the unwritable.

Among the crowd were my wife, my son, 9, and I.

Sure enough, the Angels proceeded to slide just after Joe’s

column. On the way down, they lost four straight games before winning

the one they needed to make the playoffs.

Joe’s off the hook, but I can do without that type of excitement

in my life.

Our two kids thought they were off the hook, too, but for

something far more important than baseball. As you may recall, the

purchase of our new house included a dog, Charlie. Charlie is an

8-year-old puppy. He is a German shepherd/Labrador mix, who has not

learned that German shepherds are supposed to look menacing, even if

they aren’t.

Charlie loves to play. Fortunately, the kids love to play with

him. But what they are quickly realizing is that Charlie needs more

than play time. Charlie also needs food, water and someone to tend to

the “dirty job.” Dog owners know what I mean; the rest of you have to

use your imaginations.

The process should be an easy one. We have two kids, and Charlie

needs to be fed and watered twice a day, once in the morning and once

in the early evening. It would seem logical therefore to divide this

duty up each day: one kid does it in the morning, one at night.

That part is fine -- there doesn’t seem to be much trouble getting

a handle on that schedule.

But no one told the kids about the dirty job. No one told them,

“Hey, guess what kids, you get to clean up after Charlie, too! Isn’t

that fun!”

So almost every day, we have to hash out the dirty duty. Who did

it last? How many days in a row? And in reply we get, “My foot

hurts,” “I took out the trash,” and the all-time comeback, “I have to

finish my homework.”

There is a temptation among parents to use kids to relieve their

burdens for no other reason than to make their lives a little easier.

We rationalize it by telling ourselves that kids have to “pull their

own weight,” “that a little hard work never hurt anyone,” and that

they have it easy compared to when we were growing up.

All valid reasons for wanting kids to help around the house. But

this parent is often torn because as much as I want them to help, I

also want them to just play outside. I’ll vacuum, iron, clean the

bathroom, whatever, just to let them be able to play outside. So will

Cay. But there are some things I won’t do.

When I landed a really good job 17 years ago, I thought that it

would be the end of being involved in some of the menial jobs in

business. I was wrong. When things got busy, I was helping in the

warehouse.

Then when I started my import business, I thought I would never

have to get down and dirty. Wrong again. I was even dirtier than

ever. But I have sworn to myself that if this family ever got a dog,

I would not scoop poop. This time I mean it, and I don’t care if I’m

jinxing myself.

* STEVE SMITH is a Costa Mesa resident and freelance writer.

Readers may leave a message for him on the Daily Pilot hotline at

(949) 642-6086.