Every day my toddler and I play a series of games. At least to him, they're games. To me, they're the dishes, the laundry, and other various cleaning/straightening/cooking duties that I handle as the CEO of the house.
He is utterly delighted every time I open the door to the dishwasher or the either of the laundry machines. He wants to "help". Part of this is my fault. In a moment of utter weakness (and because I thought it would be good for him to start learning good habits) I handed him the cooking utensils one by one with the instructions to "Put it away". He thought it was great fun to walk back and forth across the kitchen, carefully handling a spatula or bamboo spoon, slowly open the drawer and slam the utensil in before carefully closing the drawer and coming back for the next one. On his final trip, he came back and there was nothing else for him to put away. That's when the anarchy started and the Toddler Olympics was born.
His little hands reached into the racks of the dishwasher for whatever he could free. A plastic plate was fine. As was the plastic cup that followed. When he reached in and pulled out a knife, I knew I was screwed. Since then it's been a game of "Divert and Distract" while I hastily put away the dangerous and the breakable. However, our dishwasher has seen it's better days and the drying cycle doesn't work. So each dish that comes out has to be hand-dried before putting it away. It's a lesson in speed that I never imagined I'd ever need.
He does the same thing with the laundry. He's absolutely gleeful as he pulls all the clothes out and flings them over his head - clean, dirty, wet. It doesn't matter. They all go all over the floor. Then he crawls into the piles, giggling. This is the one "game" where I hate racing. I'm meticulous when it comes to the laundry. I have to be. As much as I try, we're not a wash-and-wear household. Both hubby and I have garments that require specific cleaning and my Teenager has school uniforms (why, oh WHY do schools think WHITE is an appropriate color for kids?!?!?). Laundry is usually a team sport in our house - hubby is the diversionary tactic and everyone gets clean clothes. Yay!
Baby is also studying to be a Michelin-star chef. Ever since he learned how to stand on a chair to reach the counter, he has INSISTED on helping with dinner. Every day. When we're rinsing or draining or mixing, I'm happy for his help. He's not a terribly picky eater - he eats just as many fruits and veggies as he does Goldfish and graham crackers. But when I'm chopping or using the stove, it's hands-off! This usually elicits squalls and repeated demands of 'UP" with arms outstretched. He likes to stir the pot (don't they all) and smell the aromas of cooking food. (He's like his mom that way. I love lifting the lid on a cooking pot and smell the heavenly aroma of dinner wafting out.)
There are some times when participating in the Olympics is fun and I etch the memories on my brain. Like when he races me around the house with his Little Tykes vacuum as I'm doing the same to see who can get done first. Or when he claps his hands after throwing all his toys in the trash and says, "All done!"
But now the Toddler Olympics is a mainstay in our house - as evidenced by last night's cacophony of screaming, caterwauling and kicking. I made the mistake of capitalizing on his being restrained in the high chair to empty the dishwasher. (We have one of those booster seat/high chairs that you set on a regular kitchen chair. He nearly upended himself in the chair onto the floor!) And as with everything else, this too will fade. Just like his fascination with the light switch. And the VCR. I'm just going to try and enjoy it while it's here and remember it fondly when he's a teenager and asks me "why" when I tell him to empty the dishwasher or do his laundry.
