My son has apparently developed some bizarre obsession with my mop. Please note that this is not something to which I can in any way relate.
He pestered me for two days to let him mop the kitchen floor, and finally I remembered my own advice and said "Sure, let's mop the floor."
First, I explained, we needed to sweep so we didn't make mud. Then we got really hot water in the mop bucket (which I located without too much trouble). That, I explained, was so it would dry right away. I showed him how to wring the mop out very thoroughly, and he was off. When he got tired of the mop, we switched and he took the scrub brush for the stubborn spots. He actually did almost half the floor before he got tired of it and asked to stop.
And I let him stop right away when he asked. I figured up to that point he had been having a good time, and I'm hoping since I let him stop when he stopped having fun, he'll think of mopping the floor as an enjoyable experience he may want to repeat. It seemed to me that lessons in perseverance and finishing the job could come later. I hope I'm right.
(It wasn't until two days later that the oldest monkey informed me he had wanted to mop the floor because he "doesn't like dirty floors." I consoled myself with the idea that, someday, his wife will be really glad that he pulls out the mop, rather than just complaining. This is in contrast to Monkey #2, who wandered into the kitchen several weeks ago and informed my husband "I'm tired of walking on this dirty floor!" When she grows up, she'll have to have her older brother over, a lot.)
(Please note that, despite what my children may think, my floor isn't really that dirty, that frequently. At least that's what I tell myself.)
Want to see something else a bit odd? This is Monkey #2, carefully feeding birdseed one piece at a time into the hole on the vacuum where the hose is supposed to be attached:
She spent a good two or three minutes at this. I have no explanation.