My little helper

Clare is at the age where helping with chores, for the most part, is still fun.  I'm glad she likes to help, I'm glad she thinks it's fun.  But this a.m. I was looking forward to eating breakfast and sitting for a minute with a cup of tea when Clare said, "Mom, this table is dusty!  Let's dust!" 

Despite the fact that she had just tumbled out of bed at 7 a.m. and neither of us had eaten anything, we got rags and started wiping down tables and shelves.  Then she announced, "Let's scrub the floor!"  At this point I wanted to groan, Not now, Clare... maybe later, let me get a little caffeine in me first. 

But she handed me the big red broom and she grabbed the broom and dustpan.  I swept the dirt into little piles and she did a great job of sweeping it all into the dustpan (with a lot of extra gusto, and yes, a few crumbs flew past the dustpan and had to be swept again). 

Then she wanted her own little rag and she really wanted me to use a rag too but I cheated and used the damp mop because it was only 7:30 in the morning and I hadn't eaten breakfast yet.  I don't function very well without breakfast.

So, thanks to Clare, by the time Karl woke up at 7:45 the living room was dusted and the floors were swept and mopped.