Many years ago my idealism in parenting outnumbered experience. I remember our sunny expectations about children and how easy it would be to shepherd them. One thing I did was invest in child sized tools. We had a tiny broom, a little dustpan, small gardening claws, and a miniature bucket. They were adorable. 

 

We took the broom with us on a camping trip, and when I was tidying up the tent I forgot to include our one year old son. He came running with his red broom, but alas there was no dirt left. I tried to thank him anyway for his efforts but he was having none of it. He went outside, picked up a clump of debris and plopped it on the tent floor. Then he started to sweep. 

 

At some point I started to take pictures of children with their finished tasks. I added them to an album, which I still have. Shoes lined up, towels folded, bread rising, and a clean table all showed up with a smiling child standing by. 

 

With sweeping, there was no need for quality control. If it was on the kitchen floor it was subject to the broom and was ousted. The other day I noticed that word used in a different context. A person was making all inclusive judgments about a group of people. In one swipe they were collectively evicted. Someone listening described it. 

 

"That is a sweeping statement." It was in itself neither a criticism, nor alliance, though the first speaker took it as the latter. He seemed to feel like he had done his job, in ousting the lot of them. 

 

I am less inclined to such all or nothing tactics. Experience has tempered the clear lines of youth.  I have lost some of the satisfaction inherent in thinking I cleaned up a situation, even if I provided the dirt.