Today, I made her dream a reality. And in her beautiful little girl mind, she thinks the fact that I let her be a part of Laundry Day is the greatest thing ever. She waited patiently for the dryer to stop spinning, and held out her hands just the way I showed her to catch the pile of towels I would pile onto her skinny arms. She set them down gently and, with surgical precision, gingerly folded each wash cloth and dish towel, carefully matching corners and edges until she had them all folded into what she declared to be perfect little packages. They were not folded the way I usually fold them, but I'm happy to rearrange the symmetry of the linen closet to accommodate her methods.
She carried the dish towels into the kitchen and followed me across the room like a duckling learning its way around a pond so I could show her which drawer they belonged in. She pulled it open and noticed that the other dish towels were rolled, not folded the way hers were. I watched, silently, to see what my little perfectionist would do. Without saying a word, she unwrapped her perfect little packages, smoothed them out on the floor and set about folding them in half, first lengthwise, then end to end, so that she could make them match the towels already in the drawer.
"Look Mommy," she declared, holding her first rolled towel up for me to see. "I made little burritos like yours!"
She reached into the drawer and placed her towel burrito in its place next to the others. She paused to review her work, and once she was satisfied she proceeded to put away the remaining towels for me.
The whole process took about four times as long as it usually does. I learned patience, and she learned the value of helping mommy with the housework. And for her first try at household chores, I'd say she did a pretty fantastic job.
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