This morning Matthew interrupted my cleaning the kitchen (this is bigger than it sounds, as it happens so rarely) to cry to me that Ellie was playing with the wipes in the bathroom and that she yelled at him not to.
Wow - almost an hour into our day before the first tattling. It's nearly a record!
So I went into the bathroom and found Ellie, fully clothed, holding a flushble wipe. Well, that's what I think it was - it was wadded up so tightly that it had it's own event horizon. Upon further questioning ("What are you DOING, and why are you yelling at Matthew?") she informed me that she was cleaning the bathroom and he was just pulling wipes out and throwing them away. A quick look in the garbage can confirmed half of her story. And she WAS standing over the toilet getting ready to rub the wipe on it.
Five minutes later, after letting her use the lysol wipes instead of flush wipes and after advising her to keep them flat instead of crumpled, the bathroom was clean. The toilet (all parts), the sink, cabinet, and stools. All. Very. Clean.
Now I know it wasn't that gross, because the maids were just here yesterday...so it's not like she reached her breaking point and just HAD to clean it. She just decided to help out. What a sweetie.
I wonder what she's about to ask for.