All I wanted was some help

It seemed like a bright idea at the time. Pocket money in exchange for help around the house. I suggested it to my two sons in the supermarket and they readily accepted the offer. Then it started. The help. At the checkout my youngest son sprang to life. ‘I’ll help you pack’ he suggested. I readily agreed what a great idea this had been. I hate it when the checkout person chucks my groceries at me at a daunting pace and I can’t keep up. I hand him a bag and I take one too. We’re ready for anything. Or so I thought. I did not realise how anal retentitve I was. I didn’t know that I had a system for packing, until it was disrupted by my little helper. He grabbed items at the rate of knots, slinging them any which way into the bag. I tried to suggest a system, but he really didn’t understand why we needed one. ‘Isn’t good I’m helping mum.’ His bright smile shining happily at me.’Yes’I replied through gritted teeth.
‘Oh he’s adorable’ cooed the checkout girl throwing more items at me.
Okay so the checkout was traumatic but may be my other son would rise to the challenge of making their sandwiches for school. After all he is planning on leaving home at 16 and being a writer/comedian/RAF pilot/farmer. He’ll need to at least be able to make sandwiches. Two minutes in and I’m beginning to despair. He starts by pputting the ham on a slice of bread.
‘Okay dear.’ I smile. I am the perfect, patient mum. I can use this as an educational opportunity.
‘Perhaps you’d like to butter the bread, both pieces. He unfortunately interprets this as both sides and swears blind I told him to do this.
We start again, I watch my kitchen slowly descend into chaos. He now has something resembling a sandwich and I believe I am safe to let him cut them in two and wrap them in foil. I swear I only left him for thirty seconds, but when I returned, the sandwich has disintegrated into crumbs and mush. This is not right. It is not fair. My floor is covered in crumbs, as is practically everything else. He looks at me, uncertain as to whether I will approve, hopeful that I will accept the mess that is my kitchen. I so want to tell him to go. To never attempt to make a ham sandwich again. But when he leaves home he will starve. I instruct him to wrap it up. That one will be his. The tension in the air is rife as he kind of scoops it into the foil. He is as relieved as I am that the ordeal is over for another day.

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~ by envisioningutopia on October 17, 2011.

One Response to “All I wanted was some help”

  1. Hahaha – aren’t you glad you have some help? 😉 My daughter “helps” me with the dishes by drinking most of the water and chucking the rest on the floor. Now I only put a little bit in the sink to begin with when she helps, with no soap in case it’s bad for her to drink that…and when she goes to bed I rewqash everything.

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