I felt sabotaged by a second-grader when I overheard my daughter tell her friend she had to clean her room before she could play.

“I’m too busy to clean my room,” her 7-year-old friend replied. “My mom does it for me.”

We’ve all done our share of cleaning up other people’s messes. But when did our children become too busy, too important and too special to pick up after themselves?

One short generation ago, household chores were expected — not rewarded or routinely outsourced. I learned to cook in front of a hot stove in grade school. I knew how to iron my dad’s business shirts. And all of us would blast the radio while we vacuumed, dusted and mopped. Household chores were a way to create order out of chaos.

But I’ve seen few children entrusted to handle such tasks. One mother recently confided that her child had no idea where to find the sugar pot in the house. She had never had to explore the inner workings of the pantry.

Perhaps we have to change our own attitude toward household work. I don’t enjoy it, myself, especially when I’m exhausted with the demands of work and children.

But a messy space feeds an underlying persistent anxiety. A clean, ordered home feels like a sanctuary. It should be every family member’s responsibility to contribute to creating that peace.

The difficulty lies in the follow-through: What mom wants to repeat herself over and over again to get a child to load a dishwasher when she can do it herself in 10 minutes? It can be more a chore to enforce a chore.

There’s a danger in giving in to it, according to clinical psychologist Wendy Mogel, who has written “The Blessing of a B Minus: Using Jewish Teachings to Raise Resilient Teenagers.” She’s the anti-Tiger Mom and argues that too many parents overindulge, overprotect and overschedule their children.

She cites a few disturbing examples: 5-year-olds who do not wipe their own bottoms; 7-year-olds who cannot adjust the hot or cold water in the shower; 13-year-olds who have never cleared the table after they’ve eaten.

When they’re older, she says, children can say four magic words that makes any responsibility for chores disappear: “I have a test.”

“We treat them like handicapped royalty,” she said. And, it leads to scholar-prince and princess syndrome.

It sends the message the certain work is worthy of their attention — the practices, the homework, the college-application boosting service projects — but the rest of it, the “ordinary” work is not worth their time.

“The chores I’m talking about are not fancy,” Mogel said. “It’s about engaging in self-care and family citizenship.”

What is it that turns well-intentioned parents into their kids’ Sherpa, butler, concierge, talent agent and ATM? Mogel asks.

“We think there’s a scarcity of future,” she said. Our fears and anxiety about the changing global economy, and all the scary, larger forces out of our control sublimate into micromanaging our children’s lives. We worry that the slightest perceived disadvantage will take our children out of the running for a decent and prosperous future, she said.

But there are consequences to raising children in this sort of bubble. They lose touch with reality and the benefit that practical life lessons offer. Cooking a dish, for example, involves some risk and a lot of science and reading, and is infinitely better than an enrichment class after school in which fifth-graders are learning five words of Mandarin, Mogel argues.

We are quick to complain about an entitled generation, but how consistently do we expect our children to do even half as many chores as we did as children?

I enjoyed the humor and common sense in much of her book, although the author seems more liberal and permissive in some areas than my comfort level. (Although that’s said from the vantage point of having elementary school-aged children, not teenagers.) I especially appreciated the Jewish traditions and teachings she shares throughout the stories. It drives home the message that the so-called ordinary work in our life can be as much tied to our spirituality as higher-status work.

Mogel retells the story of a couple who ask Rabbi Giftner, Rosh Yeshiva of Tels, to settle a dispute. The husband studied the Torah all day and felt it was beneath him to take out the trash. His wife disagreed. The rabbi ruled that the husband had no religious or legal obligation to take out the garbage, although he ought to help his wife. The next morning, before services, the rabbi shows up at the house. The surprised husband asks him in. The rabbi responds: “No, I’ve come not to socialize but to take out your garbage. You may believe it’s beneath your dignity, but it’s not beneath mine.”