Tell me why

I have given birth to the incarnation of Tom Sawyer.

The Boy was in big, BIG trouble for something yesterday, and got sent (ok, he got dragged, kicking and screaming) to his room, which he promptly trashed. Mm-hmm.

So today he is grounded and has lost many privileges until he cleans up his room. His sister follows him upstairs. I come up a little later to check progress, and here's what happens: The Girl bounds out of the Boy's room, puts her hands on her hips, and says, "I am going to clean up the Boy's room, and he doesn't have to pick up even one piece!"

"Oh, reeeeeally," I hiss. "And whose idea was THAT?"

"Mine!" declares the Girl. "And I am going to clean up his room for the REST of my LIFE!"

"Oh, I think not," said I. "If you want to help him, fine. But HE is most certainly going to do at least half the work."

She shakes her head and rolls her eyes. "You!" she shouts, "are the MEANEST! MOM! EVER!"

From inside his room, the Boy puts together a Lego. "Yeah," he says, "You aren't being very nice, Mom."

Five minutes later, they come into my room. "Mom," says the Girl, "can you open my piggy-bank so that B can count my money?"

"WHAT!?? NO! You are not giving him your bank!" She's been trying to sneak it past me for the past 5 minutes.

Is there a karmic lesson to be learned here somewhere (other than, why the hell did I think quitting therapy was a good plan)? I have some sort of wierdo flu/cold/fever thing that's been going around, so I am all Day-Quil'ed up and have no patience for lessons right now. I am about to start calling boarding schools. Do boarding schools answer the phones on Labor Day?