My little “helper” isn’t always helping
Our son has become my little helper over the past few weeks.
James, who turns three years old in December, has transformed from that little boy who watches Momma do the chores to the little man who thinks he can do things better.
“I wanna help” is his favorite saying now. And for some reason, he usually says it to me when my husband Jason isn’t around.
Jason said that James helps him with “men” stuff when they go on their outdoor outings from time to time. From picking up creek rocks for our yard decoration to handing off parts for a tractor repair, James is right in the middle of it all.
Jason also says James actually proves to be a big help every now and then.
With me, however, James could use a little practice. Housework, cooking and other chores are not a little boy’s speciality. He ends up being more of a liability than an assistant.
As I was unloading the dishwasher, I heard his footsteps running across our wooden floors. Momma’s little helper was on his way.
I told him that he could hand me the plates and cups for me to put away in the cabinets. I turned my back for a second, and he was on all fours across the dishwasher door.
After placing him back on the kitchen floor, I thought we should move onto to something else.
I decided the floor needed a good sweeping. Sweeping all my dirt into a pile, I went to search for the dust pan. Giving my son a little too much credit, I left my pile unattended.
When I returned James had one of his toys scraping across the dirt pile. The pile went flying in various directions in the kitchen. James thought he was vacuuming.
I gave up on sweeping and decided to move into the laundry room. Placing James in front of his favorite television show, I thought I had time to fold a few clothes.
I have this habit where I throw all the socks into a separate basket, which I then dump on the bed to find all the matches.
My telephone rang, and I went to my bedroom to take the call. When I returned to my laundry baskets, I found my socks missing.
Then I heard James’ footsteps running from the kitchen. Searching for a few minutes, I found all the socks in the wastebasket. I guess he thought his basket was better for sock sorting.
I needed to take a break, but today was my cleaning day and several things were left to do. But after each chore, James came behind me to leave his mark.
I recovered a Hot Wheels truck from the toilet. A freshly made bed had pillows from the living room scattered on top of it, and the covers thrown back. Various magazines were thrown into the bath tub because James spotted a bug that he wanted to exterminate. A piece of bread was found in the dishwasher. Dog food was dumped all over the side deck. The mop was left wet on the couch. And all of his sippy cups were stashed inside a toy box, complete with old milk.
At the end of the day, I spent more time cleaning up after James than I did with my actual chores.
But when those big blue eyes look up at me as he says “I wanna help,” I can’t help but welcome his participation.
Now if I could just figure out a way to get that Slim Jim off the top of our entertainment center.