While Susan was out at a meeting after work with her team, I had the kids all to myself in the evening. Dinner wasn’t a problem; it was the “it’s-time-to-empty-the-fridge” kind of meal. Abby had some leftover BBQ chicken, which Camille didn’t want of course, so I fixed her and myself some hot dogs and oregano green beans and then heated some leftover fries for them from the weekend kid romp.
Hot dogs and green beans? Well, my thought is if you’re gonna sin with the dogs, better get something good in you and them, too.
Anyway, I usually clean up while I’m cooking, but I didn’t have time to empty the dishwasher and put away the clean dishes. Part of the new kid routine is for them to take their plates from the table, scrape the leftover food into the trash and put the plates on the kitchen counter.
Tonight, Abby wanted to go a step further.
Abby has this sort of need to be helpful. She’s always had it. When she was in daycare they had to rachet her back because she would clean up everything before the other kids had a chance to pitch in.
She was in a particularly “helpful” mood tonight and wanted to wash the dishes. She even grabbed the sponge and washed a couple of things before I even knew what she was doing. I had to verbally restrain her, but I was able to focus her energy on helping me unload the dishwasher first.
Camille, who generally takes much more time to eat seventy-five percent less food than anybody else in the house, finished and brought her plate over. She didn’t want to be left out of the fun. Because Camille’s not tall enough yet, I had her put the tops back on the clean containers while Abby and I put everything away.
Then the real fun started.
We all reloaded the dishwasher with dirty dishes, then Abby started to wash the things that I didn’t want to put in the dishwasher. Camille did the drying. Not wanting to be outdone (yes, she cried about it), Camille and Abby swtiched duties; Camille washed and and Abby dried. (You should have seen the smile on my face while THAT was happening).
The only two dishes they didn’t wash or dry were a rather large knife (I’m not that dumb) and one of their drinking glasses.
They did a great job and they didn’t break a thing. Which doesn’t mean nothing got broken.
Dumb dad broke the drinking glass putting it back in the cupboard of all things, banging the rim on the cupboard door.
The moral of this story: If WalMart can do it…
Wait! Wrong moral.
This is the right moral of the story: Don’t underestimate your kids’ desire or ability to help.
All they want is a chance.
And time with you.