I have a vague recollection from early childhood of reading The Adventures of Tom Sawyer. In fact, I specifically remember only one chapter: Chapter 2, where Tom is sent out to whitewash the fence. After a half-hearted and resentful start, the enterprising little oik realises that, if he appears to be enjoying himself, others will want to join in just to see what they’re missing. In the end, all the local kids are paying him for the privilege (payments including “a kitten with only one eye” and “a dog-collar - but no dog”) while Tom stands by, watches, learns, does a Masters in macroeconomics at LSE and becomes Conservative Minister for Trade and Industry.
By which point you’ll be wondering one of two things: (a) am I by any chance posting to the wrong blog? or (b) what, a real kitten? I can only address the first, and the answer is no. Read on…
I was put in mind of all this today after school as I was doing the washing-up. The girls were in the living room, watching CBeebies and eating raw carrots. Suddenly, Hannah appeared and asked: “Daddy, can I help you wash up?”
After the initial shock had worn off I replied yes, she could put the spoons away after I’d dried them. She stood there and thought for a moment.
“Can’t I dry the spoons, Daddy?” she asked.
And so off she went to fetch a tea-towel, and merrily set about drying all the teaspoons and putting them away in the drawer, before moving on to the other non-lethal cutlery. But where things got really Tom Sawyer (as experienced twin observers will already have guessed) was when Lauren wandered in.
“Aaaaaaaaaahhh,” said Lauren. (You know the one: that “aaaaaaaahhh” on a rising note that sounds a bit like a nuclear early warning klaxon and is synonymous with “that’s not fair!”) “Why can’t I help, Daddy?”
“You can!” I said. “Just get a tea-towel from the drawer. You can do all the plastic tubs and lids.”
And so she did. By the time I’d finished washing, all that was left for me to dry were the plates, bowls, cups, mugs, glasses, sharp knives, pointy things and chopping boards. So not that much labour saved this time round, but the point is: they’ve taken the first step. All of a sudden I had a wonderful premonition of me and Nicola, retired, our hard working days behind us, round at one of the girls’ houses and being well looked after. The only thing that slightly marred the image was the one-eyed kitten sitting on my knee. But that’s a price worth paying as far as I’m concerned.
