When I was growing up, my family had some firm House Rules:
- No books at the dinner table
Who’d want to talk to their boring old family when they could be finishing The Secret Garden? Matilda? The Long Winter?
- One or two squares of toilet paper are sufficient. Not a handful, not an armload
I wanted share this gospel with my college roommates, but never had the nerve.
- We don’t hit each other
My parents always said this after one kid had hit another, which made it pretty hard to believe
- If you see the dog mess, you have to clean it up
A good rule in theory. In practice, it led to shocking obliviousness: “What, it right in the middle of the kitchen floor? Huh! Guess I didn’t notice.”
As an adult, my home has but one House Rule:
- If I am in bed, Ian is not allowed to tell me anything that Donald Trump has said, done, or written
You may wish to adapt this rule to your needs and institute it immediately.
Think back. What were your House Rules growing up, and what rules have you made in your own home? Which ones worked and which didn’t?