All Present and Accounted For

Yesterday at 2:15 in the afternoon, Jack was asleep and I was doing dishes while the other two children played in the living room. Cubby wandered in to the kitchen and announced he would help. Although my knee-jerk reaction when faced with dishes "help" from kids is "No, thanks,*" I was already almost done, with just the silverware left to do. And Charlie wasn't in there demanding to help too.

So I told Cubby he could wash all the silverware for me. I showed him how to pull the utensils from the bottom of the dish pan, scrub them all over with the dishcloth, and then rinse them with the hot water. He grabbed an apron, pulled over his chair, and got to work.

I could get used to this.

At this point, I realized I hadn't heard anything from Charlie for a worrisomely long time. So I went on a Charlie hunt, which led me upstairs to the stereo in the hall. He was trying to turn on "cowboy music" (Chris Ledoux). He had obviously been in the forbidden territory of Grandma's bedroom, because he was holding the MiL's childhood stuffed puppy, named Dream, and wearing a pair of the MiL's high-heeled shoes.

I do not have a picture of this, much to my disappointment. And yours, I'm sure.

So, one boy in an apron doing dishes, and one in high heels? Modern men in the making right here at woodchuck central.

* I know, I know. Learning moments and teaching responsibility and all that. But all that water all over, and both of them always want to do it so they fight and, ugh, dishes suck enough without all that.