Yes, I guess it really is that rare that I make his bed. Because what's the point? A made bed is an invitation to play. Today it stayed made for less than a minute.
* * *
"Nathan, go downstairs and pick up your crayons."
. . . . Nathan continues playing.
"Nathan, go downstairs and pick up your crayons."
. . . . "Okay."
"Nathan, say 'Okay, mom, I hear you and will obey.'"
. . . . Nathan walks downstairs and says in the manner of the most obedient son, "Okay, mom, I not hear you."
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