Amelia and Cleaning Chores

Chapter Fifteen: Spark Learns About Cleaning Day

It was a quiet Sunday afternoon, and the Stratton family had gathered in the living room, ready to tackle an all-hands-on-deck cleaning day. Or at least, that was the plan.

“Okay, team,” Mom said, holding a clipboard and pointing at a hastily drawn chore chart. “Here’s how this works. Everyone has assignments, and we’re not stopping until this house sparkles.”

“Did someone say ‘sparkles’?” Spark chirped, her horn glowing as she shimmered into view on the back of the couch.

“No,” Mom said firmly, narrowing her eyes.

“But I’m very good at sparkles!” Spark said, tossing her mane.

Mom sighed. “Spark, this is a cleaning day, not a ‘cover everything in glitter’ day.”

“Noted,” Spark said with a mischievous grin that made Amelia nervous.

The Assignments

Mom started handing out tasks.

“Elias, you’re in charge of vacuuming the upstairs.”

“Why me?” Elias groaned.

“Because I’m not trusting you with cleaning supplies downstairs after the spaghetti incident,” Mom replied.

Amelia smirked. “Fair.”

“Amelia, you’ve got the kitchen,” Mom continued.

“Fine,” Amelia said, grabbing a sponge.

“Iris is helping me with dusting,” Mom added, glancing at the preschooler, who was already attempting to wear a feather duster as a hat.

“And Dad?” Amelia asked.

“I’m writing about all of this for the book,” Dad said from the corner, scribbling in his notebook.

Mom glared at him. “After you clean the bathrooms.”

“Right,” Dad said quickly, setting down his pen.

Spark’s Contribution

Spark decided to “help” Amelia in the kitchen, which immediately proved to be a mistake.

“Amelia Jean,” Spark said, inspecting the pile of dishes in the sink, “you mortals have such outdated cleaning methods. Allow me.”

“No, Spark,” Amelia said, but it was too late.

With a flash of her horn, Spark zapped the dishes. They began scrubbing themselves in midair, spinning like tiny whirlpools of soapy chaos.

“Spark!” Amelia shouted as one plate flew past her head. “This is not helping!”

“Sure it is,” Spark said proudly.

“Mom’s going to kill us,” Amelia muttered, grabbing a towel and trying to catch the flying dishes.

The Vacuum Incident

Upstairs, Elias was wrestling with the vacuum cleaner, which had suddenly started moving on its own.

“Why is this thing alive?!” Elias yelled as the vacuum zigzagged wildly across the carpet.

Spark poked her head into the room. “You’re welcome.”

“Spark, I don’t need help!” Elias shouted, chasing the vacuum as it darted under the bed.

“You’re right,” Spark said. “You need inspiration.”

“WHAT I NEED,” Elias said, grabbing the vacuum cord, “IS FOR THIS TO STOP!”

The vacuum finally came to a halt, and Elias collapsed onto the floor, glaring at Spark.

“Fine,” Spark said, rolling her eyes. “Do it your boring way.”

Iris and the Feather Duster

Meanwhile, Iris had fully embraced her role as the “dusting assistant.”

“Mommy,” Iris said, waving the feather duster like a wand, “I’m making the dust go bye-bye!”

Mom smiled. “Good job, Iris!”

Spark, who had joined them in the living room, watched with interest. “Iris, have you considered upgrading your method?”

Iris blinked. “Upgrade?”

With a flick of her horn, Spark turned the feather duster into a glowing, animated mop that danced across the furniture.

“Spark,” Mom said warningly, “what did I just say about magic?”

“It’s efficient,” Spark said defensively as the mop began twirling around the coffee table.

“Undo it. Now,” Mom said.

Spark sighed but complied, the mop turning back into an ordinary feather duster.

The Final Stretch

By the time the chores were done, the house was mostly clean—aside from a few stray glitter trails left behind by Spark’s “enhancements.”

“Good job, everyone,” Mom said, collapsing onto the couch with a cup of tea.

“Define ‘good,’” Elias muttered, brushing glitter out of his hair.

Amelia sat at the kitchen table, glaring at Spark. “You made this ten times harder than it needed to be.”

“Correction,” Spark said, lounging on the counter. “I made it ten times more fabulous.”

Dad grinned from his writing corner. “Definitely going in the book.”

“Of course it is,” Mom said, rolling her eyes.

The End (or the beginning of Spark’s cleaning service…)

Disclosure: These prose were written with the assistance of OpenAI’s ChatGPT 4o.