I'll tell you this, I'm not doing those dishes. Paul and I, we have a deal: we each do our own dishes, plus each person does the dishes created by any meal he or she prepares for the children. This comes out pretty even.
Here's what lights me: when he leaves his own dishes and the kids' dishes from the night before, and skys off to work. I have to look at those dishes all day, thinking about the possibilities. I could do them and end the issue--except that I've learned that if I give Paul an inch, the next day he'll take the same inch and those dishes will be left there again. Plus, I'd feel like a patsy.
I could leave them there for him, but then I have to see them there, all messy and bad-housewifey in the sink, reminding me every time I'm in the kitchen that I have an inconsiderate husband who is sitting in his totally clean office (cleaned by an actual maid) while I languish in squalor. And then he'll do them that evening, and I'll sit there thinking, "Since it takes the SAME AMOUNT OF TIME EITHER WAY, why couldn't you have done that LAST NIGHT?" And he will not sway under the force of my thoughts, but will hum a tune as he dries his hands.
Third possibility is today's favorite: fling them out the window to shatter on the driveway below. No, I'm not going to do that: they'd just sit there until I cleaned them up.
Gift ideas for an 8-year-old, part 1 of 2 - I have TWO 8-year-olds to buy for, so I’m going to split it up into two posts. Today will be the things we’re getting for Edward. I dislike saying “Gift id...