My mom taught me so many things. I was, as you know, home-schooled, so it would not be inaccurate to say she really taught me everything I know. Among history lessons, how to make dinner, writing thank you notes, and all the other things she taught me, one of the things that stands out the most is that she taught me how to clean.
I'm not saying our house was super clean all the times. Our bookshelves and fireplace mantle would not have passed Mary Poppins' white glove inspection unless company was coming over. But when we did cleaned, we cleaned really well.
I also think that I learned to clean from a young age. Now this is a point of contention between my mother and myself. I am quite certain I was cleaning the bathrooms by the age of 7, but she insists that she didn't have me doing that until I was more like 10. In any case, I was scrubbing soap scum, vacuuming in corners and under couches, dusting places no one could even see, and leaving mirrors completely streak free all throughout my growing up years. And as much as I hated it, it had a good affect on me. I am now, for better or for worse, kind of a neat freak. And I attribute it all to my early exposure to cleaning. (Read between the lines, Johnny will be doing the bathrooms by the times he's 5!)
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