We spent the day cleaning up after a week’s vacation at a family cottage.

 
This year, we decided rather than let the kids point out the grains of sand they had disguised as magic love dust all week, we would put them to work cleaning up.

 
Their jobs included things like; making bunk-beds (saving me from wrestling a single top-bunk fitted sheet onto a mattress four inches from the ceiling until it ends in either victory or death), wiping small corners free of cobwebs and blood thirsty lizards (that’s what we told them) and packing their belongings in two easy, specific piles—laundry or clean clothes.

 
The laundry pile was as tall as the top bunk, the clean clothes pile which required folding and packing into a bag was as you might expect, totally empty.

 
I would ask Hanna to put the hair dryer and the After Bite cream into a bag.

 
Her “I’m almost a teenager” approach was spot on.

 
“So, do you want me to just find like a random bag of chill?”

 
Yes, if we’re speaking English. A random bag of chill sounds just fine for both—thank you fellow sandy traveler.