Well worth spending time with his/her parents. Because it's odds-on that he'll turn into his father and she'll turn into her mum. Usually without realising it.

My Dad never 'consciously' did housework. If there was a job to do and he was the one standing nearest, he just did it. Apart from their unspoken agreement that she'd do the ironing and he'd polish the shoes.

SWMBO and I used the "OK, you do that and I'll do this!" arrangment. Until Annes' illness meant that most of the heavy work has devolved onto me, of necessity.

I did, however, have to teach her some rules:

My book remains where I put it down, with bookmark in place, upon pain of sarcasm.

Empty bowls, no matter how decorative. are not ornaments. They are receptacles for fruit, sweets, keys, mobile phones, loose change, spectacle cases and so forth. You want an ornament, get a vase.

Ashtrays are for ash, not small trinkets, drawing pins and sewing needles.

Pictures on walls must be not less than one-and-a-half metres apart.

The briefcase I used every single day for work was not to be stashed away at the back of a cupboard except during weekends or leave. Otherwise, it lived in the corner by the living room door, against the wall.

The only one of these that ever caused a problem was the briefcase one, on the single occasion when the cat used it to beat a mouse to death in the small hours.