At the end of dinner, last night:
Me to 7-year-old who is in the act of picking up her plate and taking it to the kitchen counter: “Aren’t you going to eat your salad?”
7-year-old: “Oh, yeah. I was just going to clear this plate to make some room for my salad plate.”
Me: “Well, that’s very sweet of you, but it’s best to just set it aside tonight. There’s dishes everywhere in there right now.”
(We all glance in to the kitchen, where the counters are piled high with dishes that we used that day, not to mention the dishes we had to take out of the faulty dishwasher so that it can be hauled away.)
Me: “Once we get the new dishwasher installed, it’ll be a lot easier for you to help out and clear your place. But for now, just let me deal with it. I’ve got dish ish— dish…ish… dish… PROBLEMS. I’ve got issues. With dishes….”
RegularDad: “You’ve got dissues.”
Oh dear. Poor you. I hope you get it sorted out soon, before you start throwing out the dishes that is.
Dissues
I love it!
P A P E R P L A T E S