Dishes

Not even your children. Especially not your children.

Kids want to help out. Kids even want to do dishes. Doing dishes makes them feel like the are part of something, that they are not isolated and alone, that they have a part to play. I know, I know. You wouldn’t think so to talk to them. That they truly do want to do the dishes is sometimes hard to discern given their psychotic ravings to the contrary. In my experience, typical slathering responses may include but are not limited to the following:

• I don’t want to do the dishes.
• I did the dishes yesterday.
• No. Thank you just the same. No dishes for me.
• What about my sister? Why doesn’t she ever do the dishes?
• I will do the dishes. Honest. As soon as I finish my sonnet, make a few calls, level up on “Shoot, Blood, Kill,” am elected alderman, and get back from Singapore.

Understandably, your timeline for getting the dishes done may preclude both local elections and international travel. Indeed, your schedule may emphasize getting the @#$%^&*! dishes done NOW so that you can fold some laundry, return a few work emails, and spend five minutes of quality time-Ha!-with your partner before collapsing in a heap and sleeping for several minutes before getting up, making lunches, and rushing around like a crazy person to get everybody out the door to school on time where the frowny lady will give you a cold stare and your kids a late pass. Again.

In which case-and I have no trouble admitting this-it might make some sense to let the kids play just a little more “Shoot, Blood, Kill” and do the dishes by yourself in ten minutes rather than “allowing” the kids to “help” in which case the process might take longer than the Renaissance.

To review: your kids don’t WANT to help with the dishes; it takes LONGER to do the dishes when they “help;” and it’s an unmitigated land-war-in-Europe situation to involve them frequently requiring the use of torches and pitchforks. Why bother?

For the same reason that you feed them vegetables rather than Cheetos. For the same reason that you read them books rather than give them benzodiazepines. For the same reason that you cuddle them when they have a bad dream rather than throwing them out in the yard. For the same reason that you talk to them and reassure them rather than dropping them off at the local homeless shelter.

Kids want to make a contribution. Kids want to be part of something bigger than themselves. Kids want to know that they are part of a family.

And maybe your family isn’t Ward and June Cleaver. Maybe there aren’t three fresh vegetables on the table. Maybe mom has to work outside the home-most moms do. Maybe the budget is tight and maybe there isn’t as much time for meaningful conversations as you might like. Maybe your family didn’t turn out like the ones you watched on TV growing up.

But you are still a family. Even if you are not your vision of what a perfect family should be. Even if your family isn’t going to appear on the cover of a magazine any time soon. And in your family kids help out.

Because the only thing worse than the unending argument about whose turn it is to do the dishes would be a family where the kids feel like they are useless and that their involvement doesn’t matter.