The kitchen floor

One day I was washing the kitchen floor.

Not a very common occurrence at our house.

It should be, due to the inability of my children get an entire meal's worth of food actually in their mouths, but it's not.

And if I do wash the floor, it's usually with a sponge mop.

But on this particular day, I wash washing it by hand. As in on my hands and knees with a bucket next to me and a rag in my hand. There were just too many bits of encrusted jelly and macaroni and what-have-you for my poor mop to handle.

My children had obviously never seen me do this before, since they both immediately came over and inquired what I was doing and wanted to know if they could help.

I gave them each a bowl of water and a rag and let them go to it. I figured a little pre-soak might help a little.

Within a minute, Sadie had made a nice collection of puddles and was contemplating jumping in them.

And Sam - let's just say he quickly realized what he had just offered to help with.

"Mom - this is hard work!"

"Yes it is."

"Why do you do it?"

"Because the floor is dirty."

"But it's not any fun."

"Nope - it's not. There a lot of things that aren't fun that you just have to do."

"That moms have to do?"

"Yep."

"OK. I'm done."