By Maren Bradley Anderson

Leeny stood in the chicken coop， shovel in hand， a huge grin crinkling her eyes.1 She was not faking it： My 7-year-old was having fun cleaning out the chicken coop. I was happy she was enjoying herself， but Id meant the chore to be punishment for losing a library book.2 So， was I winning or losing at parenting？

My daughter always has her nose in a book.3 She even took to reading in the car on the long drive to summer camp， which was where she lost the book.

This is the first lost library book in my life. My family has always been overeducated， but we were poor， poor， poor. I didnt own books. I borrowed books. My library books lived on a specific shelf on my headboard while they were mine， and it pained me when I had to slide them into the return slot at the library.4

However， my daughters have more books now than I owned my whole childhood， and I knowingly contribute to the problem by adding to the stacks.5 So its probably my fault that when Leeny realized she had lost the book， she shrugged.

“Sorry. I cant find it，” she said. “Dont we just pay for the book？”

“Well， yes.”

“Its only $20， right？ Whats the big deal？”

The missing library book may have been met with ho-hum ambivalence from her， but it was met with nail-biting panic from me.6 I walked into the library in a deep purple shame to pay for the book as if I had been the one to lose it.

I felt the need to make her feel responsible for the book， but Im not sure I made the impression I meant to. She has a strong back， a pretty good work ethic， and at the time she was short enough to stand upright inside the filthy7 chicken coop. She agreed to help me clean it in trade for my paying the library fine.8

I thought this idea was very clever because cleaning the coop is a chore I had been avoiding for months. It was summertime， at least， so the chicken poop had dried into a crust instead of the oozing， sucking slime that clung to the floorboards the rest of the year.9 Still， vile dust floated in the dry air， and the smell， while better than it was in April， still had notes of vinegar and rotting garbage.10

But my girl， my animal-loving， book-obsessed mini-me， thought shoveling chicken poop was the most fun shed had on a Saturday morning in a long time. We laughed. We talked. We installed a new perch11. We chipped baked crud off the floor of the coop.12 Leeny squealed at the chickens running helter-skelter as we cleaned their home.13 She happily flung shovelfuls into the wheelbarrow.14 Then she lovingly spread fresh straw15 over the floor and refilled the food and water dishes.

I stood， somewhat dumbfounded16， watching her.

Is it still a punishment if the chore turns out to be kind of fun？ Like， really fun？ Did I teach her the value of a library book if the picture I took shows her leaning jauntily on her spade after working away for an hour， grinning as if shed just found two ponies under the Christmas tree？17

No， Id failed. She did not feel shame， regret， or responsibility for the lost library book， or any of the requisite emotions that punishment is supposed to instill.18 In fact， she looked as if she might lose another book on purpose in order to clean the coop again.

It took me a while to realize what had happened， why my punishment had failed so profoundly—and why I didnt care.

The fact is that I had Leeny help me clean the chicken coop.

I was there， too， shoveling or manning19 the wheelbarrow， fetching the clean straw and feed. Leenys little sister， Vicki， was inside watching a cartoon while my husband paid bills. Only Leeny and I were outside. She had me all to herself for the first time since Vicki was born， and she was enjoying all the attention for once.

I dont know what she learned about responsibility， but I found that I didnt care about the book anymore. We bonded over that gross job and spent quality time together：20 mother， daughter， and chicken poop.

The best part may be that my daughter thinks we should clean out the coop every season， and that I should pay her $20 each time we do.

And I think shes right.

1. coop： 雞籠，雞舍；shovel： 鐵鏟，鐵鍬，下文中用作動詞；crinkle： 使變皺，起皺。

2. 她覺得好玩讓我很高興，但我讓她做家務的本意是想懲罰她丟了一本圖書館的書。chore：家務活。

3. have ones nose in sth.： 專心致志地（閱讀）。

4. 我把從圖書館借來的書放在床頭板的一個書架上，而每當我要把它們還回圖書館時，總是痛苦萬分。headboard： 床頭板；return slot： 還書口。

5. knowingly： 故意地，有意地；stack： 書架。

6. 對于丟了圖書館的書，我女兒只是含糊地嗯哼一聲，而我卻陷入了束手無策的恐慌之中。hohum： 發(fā)出“嗬—哼”的聲音（表示厭煩）； ambivalence： 含糊不定，模棱兩可；nail-biting： 束手無策的，焦慮不安的。

7. filthy： 骯臟的。

8. trade： 交換；fine： 罰金。

9. 至少那時是夏天，雞糞干成了塊狀，而不是像一年里的其他時候那樣，像粘在地板上的滲著水的、呼吸著的黏泥。poop： 糞便；crust： 硬外皮，外殼；ooze： 滲出；slime： 黏泥，黏土；floorboard：地板。

10. 盡管如此，干燥的空氣中還是飄浮著污濁的灰塵，氣味雖然比四月份時要好，卻仍然彌漫著醋味和垃圾腐爛的味道。vile： 骯臟的，污穢的；vinegar： 醋。

11. perch： 鳥類的棲木，棲枝。

12. chip： 剝，鑿；baked： 曬干的，硬結的；crud： 污垢，渣滓。

13. squeal： 尖叫；helter-skelter： 慌慌張張地。

14. fling： 擲，拋；shovelful： 滿滿的一鏟子；wheelbarrow： 獨輪手推車。

15. straw： 稻草，麥稈。

16. dumbfounded： 目瞪口呆的，瞠目結舌的。

17. jauntily： 洋洋得意地；spade： 鐵鍬，鏟子；pony： 小馬。

18. 她并沒有因為丟失圖書館的書而感到羞愧、悔恨或要承擔責任，本想通過懲罰灌輸給她的情感，她一點兒都沒感受到。requisite：必須的，必要的；instill： 灌輸。

19. man： 操縱，把守。

20. bond： 與？？建立親情關系；gross： 不潔的，令人惡心的。