"They'll do it wrong and I'll only have to redo it"

You won't, though. That's the thing I'd ask you to consider. You could not redo it.

Leo makes his bed and the duvet is rucked and one pillow is on the floor. That's a made bed. It's a bed a nine-year-old made, and it will be slept in tonight by a nine-year-old who'll have no complaint. If you go in afterwards and straighten it, two things happen. The bed is straighter, which nobody needed. And Leo learns that his making of the bed was a rehearsal for yours, which is a fair reason not to bother next time. The redo doesn't fix the job. It cancels the go.

The same goes for the sandwich that's mostly butter, the form with the phone number in the wrong box, and the shoes on the wrong feet, which I'd let walk to school once, because feet are quite good at reporting that. A job done badly by the child is a job done. If it isn't done to the standard you'd set for yourself, that's because it wasn't done by you, and it wasn't supposed to be.

There's an earlier book in this series, Good enough went out on time, about the habit of polishing your own work past the point where anyone could tell. This is that habit pointed at someone else's work, and it's worse, because your own work is at least yours. An apprentice's first joint is loose and it's still the joint that teaches the second one.

The honest core of the objection is that some jobs have a standard the child's version doesn't meet. The bag has to have the reading book in it or there's a note from school. The form has to be right or Maya doesn't go. Fine. Then the standard is part of the job, and the way to hand it over is to hand over the check as well. "Look in the bag and tell me the three things that should be in it." "Read the form back to me." The child checks, the child finds the missing book, the child fixes it. That's slower than looking yourself, and it's the last time you'll have to.

I'd also say that the redo is usually invisible to you and not to them. You think of it as tidying. They experience it as a verdict. If you must fix something, do it later, out of sight, and ask yourself while you're doing it whether it needed doing. Most of the time the answer is that it didn't, and you're fixing it for the same reason the hand went out in the first place, which is that a thing done badly is hard to leave alone.