(scene opens in a toy strewn finished attic, heaps of dirty intermixed with still folded clean on the floor)
Me: (still has her cool) Okay boys, welcome to Sunday morning, this room needs to be cleaned. (waves her hand to encompass the room) Please pick all this up; clean clothes hung up, dirty laundry in the basket, books on shelves, legos in bin. Okay?
(insert busy mom montage of washing dishes, feeding Delta breakfast, helping Gamma get dressed, more dish washing, reheating forgotten coffee three times)
Me: (returns to attic, stands in the only perfectly clean space on the floor) Oh my god. Why the hell is this room still a wreck?!
Alpha: You told us to clean this part. (mimics maternal hand wave that perfectly circumscribes the only clean spot on the floor)
Me: (strokes out) Pick up everything on the floor. Every. Thing. On. The. Floor.