The impressions of childhood are those that last longest and cut deepest. 

— Virginia Woolf

I took my son to the doctor a couple of weeks ago to make sure he wasn’t dying from what turned out to be hives. While we waited for the doctor, my son started reading educational charts on the wall, including one that outlined age-appropriate chores. 

Starting with 2- and 3-year-olds (put toys away and feed the dog), the chart covered each age group up to 10 years old (help with laundry, clean bathroom, vacuum). 

We were pleased to find that we did pretty well with this chart. Far better than the food plate. (Five to seven servings of fruits or vegetables a day? Be reasonable.)

Every source of parental advice, including the pediatrician, tells parents to include chores in our kids’ routine. Chores give kids a sense of agency and accomplishment. Chores teach children to be responsible and part of a community. 

In recent years, as my eldest children leave home, I’ve discovered another reason to make kids do chores. 

My daughters are preparing to enter the long season of life in which one has to make money. As before, they do their laundry and put their toys away. But now they not only need to set and clear the table, they must also buy the food to put on the table. 

The pediatrician’s chore chart should include an 18-and-older age group: Pay bills!

My daughter told me recently that her peers are pessimistic about life after college. There aren’t enough well-paying jobs, and what are the other options? 

I was perhaps too glib, but I immediately responded, “Oh, I don’t worry about you in that regard. You’ll always find work because you can do many different things.” 

Later, I clarified that I actually meant, “You’re willing to do many different things.” 

This is not the case for everyone. I’ve heard frustrated parents complain that their young adult children won’t pursue certain jobs for one reason or another: boring, soul-crushing, stressful, unfulfilling, demeaning. 

Sometimes these are absolutely legitimate reasons for refusing a job. Other times, the reasons seem to be a socially acceptable way of saying, “I’m too good for this.” 

That superior attitude doesn’t always start with the kid. 

One mom, who on one hand complained that her son moved back home and didn’t have a job, rather pompously explained to me, “He didn’t go to college to work retail.” 

Years ago, a mom told me something similar. When discussing our elementary-age children and chores, she proudly told me that her daughter “has better things to do.”

Indeed, in many ways, kids are told by their parents and society that they are too important to do menial tasks, such as taking out the trash and mopping the kitchen floor. When we encourage, even push, them to put their energies into schoolwork and extracurriculars at the expense of chores, they learn the constructed hierarchy of white collar over blue and the status of work. 

This hierarchy includes physical labor. Consider that parents drive their children across state lines so they can play sports. Spending a weekend kicking the ball around a field is a worthy activity for them. Pushing a lawn mower around the yard is not; they have better things to do. 

It becomes an even stronger message when nonfamily members are paid to do our chores. A child who grows up watching a stranger clean their toilet learns that this activity is not for them. As parents we can emphasize paying a living wage and the dignity of each human being. And yet . . . cleaning toilets isn’t for us.

When I see young people struggling to enter the workforce, it seems that sometimes their options are limited not by what they can do but by what they are willing to do. Perhaps it is a stretch, but I see a connection between job security and a childhood chore chart. 

We are on this Earth to love God, our neighbors and ourselves. This means folding clothes, walking the dog, pulling hair out of the shower drain and constructing beautiful birthday cakes. Love is changing the diapers of our children . . . and our parents. Love is helping people in a classroom, hospital or courtroom. Sometimes we’re the receptionist or clerk. Sometimes we’re the teacher, doctor or lawyer. Sometimes we’re the janitor. 

It is all important and worthy. It is all on the chore chart.