I was unloading the dishwasher this morning to the usual barrage of "I wanna help" and "I'll do it." There's no point in telling Emily she can't help — she's very determined. As a matter of fact, right now she's insisting that it's her turn. I can only imagine what she'd write if I let her bang on the keyboard.
Anyway, Emily was "helping" put away the dishes. She'd hand me the silverware, and I'd put it into its proper place in the drawer. As she plucked each piece out of the dishwasher, she announced what it was — either "spoon," "fork," or "knife" (don't worry; they were butter knives). Even though I could have done it much faster on my own, it wasn't a bad system, and it kept her happy.
Then I noticed that she was licking the spoons before handing them to me. Oh, well. Back in the dishwasher.
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