I love my dishwasher, don’t get me wrong. But when we visit my parents at their cabin in Oregon, we, the humans, are the dishwashers. Other years, I would usually wash and my mom would rinse and put away, but this year I noticed my 8 year old daughter was old enough to reach the sink easily.
“Will you help us with dishes tonight?” I asked her.
“Sure, you want me to put the cups in the dishwasher?”
“Do you see a dishwasher?”
“Ahhh, where is it?”
“I’m looking at one right now!”
Initiation time. Hands in the suds. Begin.
Just the act of filling the sink with warm water, watching the suds build and swirling the washcloth is relaxing. But washing dishes with my mother on one side and my daughter on the other is top bubble.
My mother-in-law tells stories of doing the dishes…
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