My Historical View on Helpers and Why

When we first arrived here I had a little cultural trouble because I've always used the term "helper" for my kids.
"Please pick up those Lego's and put them in the bucket." "No." "I need you to be my helper today."
Or
"It's time to set the table for dinner." "Why do I have to do it?" "Because you're my helper in this family and we all have jobs we have to do."
You know, that sort of thing. Trouble is, here in Singapore the title "helper" is used to mean something totally different. That is what people call their live in maids, using the term helper and maid interchangeably. You wouldn't believe the looks of horror I once got at the park when Ben and Maddie were throwing fits over leaving and picking up the picnic or whatever was spread all over the ground before we left. The park was packed with Singaporean folks and when I said something like, "You have to pick it up because you're my helpers." I knew instantly I had messed up again from the looks on their faces.

Time ticked on and I've been able to edit my vocabulary about half the time, the other half I just quit caring what they think. My kids are my helpers. Deal with it.

We settled into our house when our household goods shipment arrived and the kids began to make friends. One thing they became aware of incredibly quickly was that everyone in our neighborhood had a helper living with them. Then play dates begun and the helpers, well, they helped. They often got the kids snacks or changed a TV station and other random simple things like that. Trouble was my kids started noticing that they also cooked dinner and did laundry.

Soon came summer and all the friends disappeared for their 8-10 week holidays back with grandparents in the US and we were left alone. Without school to keep the kids busy, at least in my view, the kids had time to help around the house more. I will never forget one hot and humid June morning hearing a four year old Maddie throwing a tantrum in our backyard. She was in no mood to help with any chores whatsoever but especially not folding laundry. She screamed at the top of her lungs for the entire world to hear, "I should NOT have to do laundry! THIS IS MAIDS WORK!!!!"

Well nothing could strengthen my resolve more than a moment like that from my most strong willed and defiant child because frankly it would be really nice for momma to have that kind of help at home. The decision was made. No way, no how were we ever getting a helper. It sounded like a guaranteed way to cement in my children an attitude of entitlement and privileged. Months later though, we found out that Maddie and Ben had, without our permission, hired a maid. They named her Sarah. She was their imaginary helper and they loved her to death. She was nice and did all their chores. Brian and I were totally amused that they had schemed this up on their own and talked to each other about things Sarah was doing or was going to do.