With A Little Help From My Friend

If Thomas created a "Top Ten List of Things He Cannot Stand," I believe that high up on that list, perhaps somewhere between lentil soup for dinner (again) and my futile attempts to clean out his ears, would be "mommy cleaning the kitchen every night." "Can't Jesus help you clean the kitchen?" Thomas once asked as we lay snuggled in his bed together before my departure downstairs to engage in this detested activity. Or maybe a fairy wand, he suggested, like the one in Sleeping Beauty which would magically cause brooms to sweep floors and dishes to be washed, dried, and put away all at the flick of a wrist. How could we get ahold of one of those? Surely Aldi has one of those at a greatly reduced price. Today my dear friend Ingrid and her eldest son Colin, back in town from their home in Minnesota, spent the day in our home. "What can I do to help?" Ingrid inquired almost immediately. In days past, my pride would have prevented allowing anyone to come to my assistance, even if I desperately needed it, but anymore, my goodness, how foolish to brush aside an honest, sincere invitation. So while I put Russell and Elliot down for their naps, my lovely friend, who I swear must have transformed into a whirling dervish unloaded and reloaded mounds of dirty dishes into the dishwasher, hand washed pans, wiped off kitchen counters, scrubbed off crusted hummus smeared on high chairs, and swept my crumb infested floor so that I had time to puree one pineapple which had been sitting on top of my refrigerator for too long and cook the pumpkin needed for my pie making tomorrow. Thank you. Thank you. Thank you.