My youngest daughter was in a bad mood. It was late and we were all tired and testy after dinner. Everybody wanted to collapse on the sofa, and that’s what the three kids did, leaving the remains of dinner on the table.
My wife and I called the three kids back to clear the table and do the dishes, scolding them for slacking.
I guess we were rather stern.
“Fine!” the youngest said, rather perturbed. “I can do the dishes tonight — and tomorrow night!”
That irked my wife, who said, “With that attitude, you’ll be doing them for a week!”
“Fine!” the 11-year-old said, with the same bad temper and even more of a whine than before.
“A month, then,” my wife said.
“Fine!”
On it went and pretty soon the youngest had amassed five years of dishwashing duties.
“Wow,” I said to her. “Five years sure is a lot.”
She didn’t respond or look at me, and instead got busy doing the dishes on her first day of penance. I pitched in to help dry the plates and glasses as she morosely continued to wash, now struggling with the pots and pans. After a while, she turned to me and said with a bright face, “Hey, I know what I’m going to do when I grow up.”
“What?”
“I’m going to go into the business of washing plates.”
