Child Labor

They start by just sleeping in their car carriers. Under the desk. Behind the counter. In the office. They come to work and they do little.

Then, they play. They play with their own toys, they play with the office supplies, and maybe, just maybe, they play shop with us. They nap, they nosh.

Then, around five years old, they want something “real” to do. Labeling, stickering, sorting. Doesn’t matter, just as long as it’s what we’re doing. It’s for short periods of time so that the playing can continue.

At seven, they want a timesheet. It not about the money – there are child labor laws! – it’s about being like the other employees and doing “real work”. Not like the stuff they did at five. This time the labeling needs to be on product, the stickering needs to be on real file folders, and the sorting becomes filing into the file cabinets. Real numbers, Labor Law Compliance Center labor posters, the full alphabet, and goals.

This week my niece filled out a timesheet that brought tears to me eyes. They grow up too fast. But it was the little parts of this one that got me. Her nickname, my nickname, the day of the week, and the fact that she got it approved by her mother. Their childhood goes by so fast, and I can’t speak for my sister but having the children at work with you alleviates huge piles of mother guilt when you feel pulled in multiple directions. It’s not all bad and more than a little bit of fun. You laugh more, you walk up the street for ice cream and popcorn, and you remember – and feel deeply – what a family business really is.

The law be damned. They just want to be like their mothers.

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