Brilliant … But Bouncy

In Fact, It Was a Disaster.

When I was young, my family held occasional “family meetings.” With three children, my parents probably determined that this was a good way to discuss things that all of us needed to hear. It was fairly democratic, in that we were often allowed to speak.

I remember having family meetings about washing dishes, keeping our rooms clean, moving to a new house, and the all-important, once-in-a-lifetime family meeting: “We’re getting a dog.”

So it was natural when, as my kids started growing up, Bill and I decided to have family meetings of our own. Most of them have centered around vacations, school, and video games. None of them compared to our most recent family meeting.

This time, we had a family meeting to discuss the fact that the kids rarely do anything around the house unless they are asked to do something. In fact, I would almost use the word “never” to describe how often Dylan or Shane steps up and fixes, cleans, or helps with something without being asked.

Bill, as CEO at his company, is always tasked with opening the meeting. He talked for several minutes saying absolutely nothing, which was obvious by the way the rest of the family waited impatiently to hear his point.

Bill tried to focus on encouraging everyone to reach his full potential, but that’s not what came across. Then he showed a video about the temperature of boiling water which, somehow, related to success.

No one understood anything Bill was saying.

I jumped in and tried to explain that we really just needed the boys to do more things around the house, like …

… throwing away their own garbage instead of leaving it on the counter;

… emptying the dishwasher if it’s clean, instead of putting dirty dishes in the sink and walking away; and

… doing laundry instead of asking me to buy new underwear.

I just wanted the boys to do some of the things we’ve been doing for them for the past 18 years.

But that didn’t go over well, either. In fact, it was a disaster.

Dylan claimed that he already knew how to do everything, and that if only he could get a decent list of what exactly needed to be done, that list would be done forthwith. And Shane – who asked to be excused while Dylan was still arguing with Bill – said he didn’t really understand why a list was a bad idea.

I explained that, if Dylan had a list of 25 things to do, he would do them all. Then he would buy a beanbag chair, leave the oversized beanbag box in the middle of the kitchen floor for three months, then sit on the chair, throw his socks on the window sill and say, “What’s wrong? I did that whole list!”

Shane said, “Ohhhhh… I think I finally understand what you’re saying! Can I tell Dylan?”

“Sure,” I said. “He might even listen to you.”

So Shane repeated the story to Dylan, who said he also finally understood. Then Dylan got up and left the room – leaving Bill seething, wondering why the boys didn’t realize how close they were to “success” even after he’d shown that inspirational boiling-water video.

Sometimes, family meetings don’t go as planned.

The next day, Dylan was home alone all day and Shane came home after school. I got home at dinnertime.

When I arrived, I found a sink-load of dirty dishes and a full, clean dishwasher. No one had even thought to empty it.