I hate washing dishes. I am sure some of you are aware of that. Perhaps my dislike goes as far back as when I was a child, just tall enough to reach the sink, that I was put on dishwasher duty by my parents. I always joke how my parents planned to have three children because they had already prepared our dish washing fate. Each night we would take turns. One would clear the dinner table, the other wash/rinse the dishes, and of course one puts the dishes in the dishwasher. Well, if you were stuck doing the washing and rinsing that included all pots and pans. Holiday events were always dreaded due to the large increase in dish use. So, now as an adult and parent, I am almost always stuck doing the dishes. Did I mention I hate doing dishes? I hate when I am scrubbing along on baked-on-grease infested dish, and somehow I manage to scrub too hard causing the nasty dish water to splash back into my face.
Well, my friends, I now have some good news. My son likes to do the dishes. He is almost too eager at times. So, the time has come where I get to pass the super scrubbing sponge to him, my oldest, my one and only son. And let me tell you, I couldn't be more happier to do this. Yes, there may be a bigger water puddle left on the counter, the sink may be lined with food, and the soap that is supposed to last six months only lasts a week, but all that is okay. Why? Because I hate doing the dishes.