“You three boys empty the dishwasher for me, will you?” called Mom, from her recliner, to my brother and his son, who were beginning a week-long visit, and to me.  “You bet, Mom!  Come on, son!” my brother answered with his usual enthusiasm.  I, however, grumbled, and a bit too loudly.  “But Mom, emptying the dishwasher is, like, your only job!”  I confess to the sin of annoyance at being instructed to do a job she is perfectly able to do, and does regularly, quickly and efficiently, all by herself.  Steven did a quick and cheerful pivot: “Come on, Mom, we’ll help you!”  And Mom and her son and grandson emptied the dishwasher together, with Mom, of course, instructing her visitors on the correct location of each item.  I did not help them, not out of stubbornness or principle or pride, but rather from practicality: four adult bodies huddled around and reaching into the Bosch and adjacent cabinets clearly would be too many.

(Image by Natasha G from Pixabay)