Yesterday, as I was scurrying around getting things ready for dinner, and chatting with Olivia, she told me she was "workless". At first I thought she said "worthless". My mommy worry button went instantly into overdrive, and I had my "you are wonderful and precious" talk all ready to go, but then, before I launched in, I asked her again what she had said. The second time, I heard it clearly- "I am WORKLESS. I don't do enough chores, and I don't do any work. I need to do more work!"
Hello, Olivia, have you met your room? See those naked barbies that have taken over in there? See those little hills all over the floor? Those are your clothes. Picking them up would constitute work! There is no need to be workless any longer my dear girl. But unfortunately, THAT kind of work was not what she had in mind. Cleaning your room is not real work. Cleaning your room is only a chore. She is looking for REAL work. Like milking cows or writing a novel or something glamorous like that.
Anybody looking for a farmhand? Maybe she can earn enough to pay for a maid.