Please, kids, just turn off the lights

Back in April 2013, I wrote a blog post titled "If my children want to make me happy, here's what they'll do..." Item #1 on that list – placed there because it was very important to me – was the following:

(1) Stop leaving lights on in unoccupied rooms: If you leave a room and there's no other person left in that room, and if the light is on, turn the light off. Off. Turn the light off. Just turn the light off. Don't leave the light on. Turn it off. On = bad. Off = good. Is this clear? You're shooting for the light being in the "off" position here. That's what I'm trying to get across. If you leave the room, and you're the last person in the room, the light should be off when you leave. Not on. Off.

Pretty clear, no? I know that at least 60% of my children read that post, and I felt confident that they would not only understand and apply these instructions themselves, but also disseminate the message to the remaining 40% of children and thus ensure universal compliance in the house when it comes to the very sore subject of turning off lights when they leave rooms.

Sadly, nearly two years later, I have the regrettable duty to inform you that we have made virtually no progress within the family in this particular area. Other things have gotten better as the kids have aged, but light extinguishment, I must say, is not among them.

Several times a week, I will notice a light on in the basement. Hearing no noise in the basement, I will immediately suspect that it's unoccupied and therefore being unnecessarily illuminated.

So I will walk down there to assess the situation, and 9 times out of 10, my suspicions will be confirmed: Empty basement, blazing lights, angry daddy.

There are two issues at play here, you understand. One involves the simple economics of the situation. The electric bill, which it must be said I am solely responsible for paying, goes up the more electricity we use. A certain amount of electrical consumption is unavoidable, of course. I get that.

But keeping the lights on in rooms devoid of human beings is not within my budget, and is one of many situations in which the already-high cost of raising children goes up unnecessarily. When you leave the room, my little ones, you must turn off the light. TURN. OFF. THE. LIGHT.

The second issue is one of responsibility and maturity. I have one child in her early 20s, three in their teens, and one who is 9. None of these is so young that they can't be expected to have the common courtesy and respect to turn off the lights when they leave the room.

I urge them to try the following any time they're leaving a room:

STEP 1: Ask yourself, "Am I leaving this room for an extended period of time? Will it be more than 60 seconds before I come back?"

STEP 2: If the answer is "yes" and you're the only room currently in the room, then ask yourself, "OK, is there anything I should do before I exit the room?"

STEP 3: Consider that the answer to that question is always "yes." And that something that you need to do is turn off the lights.

STEP 4: Locate the light switch.

STEP 5: Change it to a position such that the lights go out.

STEP 6: Exit the room without turning the lights back on. Or, if you do need to turn the lights back on, go back to step 1 and repeat this process before making your departure.

Do we have that, kids? Just turn off the lights in any room from which you're about to exit, again assuming that no one is left in the room who may be using the lights (and who can presumably be trusted to turn off those lights themselves when they leave).

Please, I'm at the end of my rope on this. If I pull out of the driveway one more time knowing there's no one at home, and as I look up to the second floor of the house I notice someone has left the light on in their room, I'll break. I'm not kidding, I'll snap.

And in the ultimate bit of irony, I'll ask the warden to make sure he turns off the electric chair when he's finished after they execute me for murdering you.

It's not my fault, says the youngster before me

I'm fairly certain my children will all end up being lawyers. And good ones, too. As far as they're concerned, none of them has ever actually been guilty of doing anything wrong.

It is not uncommon for me to have conversations that go like this:


ME: So let me get this straight...You're about to get on the bus without having written your English paper, which is due in 30 minutes because you have that class first period, and this happened DESPITE the fact that both your mother and I reminded you of it eight times each last night?

CHILD: Yes.

ME: And further, it is your contention that this circumstance is actually not your fault in any way?

CHILD: Yes.

ME: I see. While I doubt I really want to hear the answer, can you enlighten me as to why, pray tell, it is NOT your fault the English paper wasn't written?

CHILD: Mommy didn't wake me up early to write it.

ME: That's it? That's your reason? Did you ASK Mommy to wake you up early so you could write it?

CHILD: No, but she should have known.

ME: Really? So your mother should, for all intents and purposes, have anticipated your stunning irresponsibility and should have taken it upon herself – without you at least having made the request, mind you – to wake you up early to write a paper that should have been written a week ago? Is that what you're telling me here?

CHILD (entirely straight-faced): Well, yeah. Why is this so hard for you to understand?

ME: <speechless>


The thing is, they say this stuff with such conviction and force, they almost end up winning me over. I start to think, "Oh well, now I see. I guess I'll just write a note asking the teacher to excuse him from the assignment because his parents were negligent."

Fortunately, the forces of common sense generally prevail in my mind and I can only wonder where I went wrong with these children. Because you see, they BELIEVE this stuff. They perceive nothing wrong with leaving messes for their mother to clean up because, clearly, that's her JOB, right? She's their personal maid servant, and if she can't see that, well, then the problem is clearly with Mommy and not with them.

I will walk into the basement and find empty plates and cups left by someone who was probably down there earlier in the day (or even the night before) watching TV and having a snack. I will ascertain who this person is, go upstairs, and order them into the basement to clean up the mess. They'll do it, but only after giving me a look that says, "You want me to do what? Clean up after myself? Well, that's just unacceptable. What am I, your slave? You should have asked Mommy to do it."

Terry, for her part, has done very well over the years in that she has never actually murdered any of her children. And believe me, she may not admit it, but I know the thought has crossed her mind. I've seen that look in her eyes...it's a look you don't want to receive from anyone, let alone your mother. It's a look that says the electric chair may very well be worth it if only for the chance to strangle the 14-year-old before her.

In the interest of fairness, I should note that my children really are good kids, despite their father's influence. And this sort of thing doesn't happen all of the time. But it happens just often enough that Terry and I will have serious conversations that include the sentence, "Maybe five kids wasn't the best idea."

My only real hope, at this point, is that we can get through the next 15 years or so without Terry causing serious bodily harm to one of them. Keep Terry felony-free, that's pretty much all I'm aiming for between now and, say, 2030. If we can get there, I'll have done my job.