Our kids sometimes “help” in the kitchen. While they prefer to chop carrots or dump spaghetti into a pot of boiling water, I usually insist they do tasks that are less likely to fast-track us to the surgical ward.
Some chores they initiate on their own. Vivian has surprised us by unpacking the dishwasher, though the clinking and clanging provide some subtle clues as to what she’s up to.
After repeated threats, they will also clear the table, a task that looks like an illustration from Dr. Seuss and one that has resulted in more than a few broken dishes. “No worries,” I say, “the floor needs vacuuming anyway.” Because it does.
The other night, William was desperate to help cook. When I insisted he set the table, he muttered. I continued defrosting the frozen chili, which thaws only slightly faster than the polar ice caps.
While I was calculating the Defrost Equation on the microwave for the fourth time, I heard grating noises. I looked over to William, and my gaze soon lowered. I said this:
Yes, my beloved helper was practicing his soccer skills by pushing the plates along our tile floor with his stinky socks. The table was the goal line.
What did I do? Not much. I pressed “start” on the microwave, watched William finish setting the table, and recorded this phrase in my notebook.
Happy Whiteboard Wednesday.
My sisters and I would race to be the table setter in hopes that we could get out of being the dishwasher / dryer. Everyone has appliances now to do that but we had a sacred family tradition of screaming at each other and trying to get out of drying dishes.
Yes, the drying of the dishes. My sister – being 6 years my senior – always got to wash. She’d wipe all the counters down and pre-wash the dishes (leaving them in the water), and then maniacally pile them up as fast as she could so I’d be left there…
“Help.” Yes, the kids always want to “help,” don’t they? Some tasks they actually can be helpful with, but for the most part them “helping” amounts to any given activity taking twice as long as it normally would.
Funniest thing I heard this week came from a student. He handed me a Christmas gift (coffee mug filled with chocolates and a Starbucks card) and just after giving it to me said, “I told my mom she was overdoing it, but she did it anyway.” I told him I was glad his mom didn’t listen to him.
Merry Christmas, IM.
ROFL – you gotta love middle schoolers, speaking from the heart.
Ways in which my toddler ‘helps’ in the kitchen:
– grabbing dirty steak knives by the blade out of the dishwasher
– filling glasses from the fridge water dispenser (which she has recently discovered she is *just* tall enough to reach), spilling water all over floor, screaming widly about the mess she has created, then spreading the water around with a less-than-clean tea towel.
All of which leaves me saying nothing intelligible, but rather sighly loudly and muttering under my breath.
Fridge water dispensers were invented by someone who never had children. I swear.
A couple of years ago, after dealing with my 5- and 10- yr old ‘helpers’ I coined Runte’s Law: “A child’s willingness to help is inversely related to their ability to do so.”
I think I’m going to adopt Runte’s Law myself. Well said!