Hard Work

It was so beautiful here the other day that I got absolutely nothing done.  There are two things I try to do every day no matter what.  1) Pick up the house and  2) make supper.  Neither one of those things got done.  People talk about the memories of their mothers cooking them delicious food and baking them yummy snacks.  Well, my kids won't have those memories, but I hope they have memories of the times we ate out for supper because I was too busy spending time with them to cook.  That day, we took the kids for a walk around the lake.

As we were walking, we visited with the kids about their days.  Precious started telling us about working on a group project at school that day.

Precious:  The boys sat down and told me this is how it should be.  The girls doing all the work.  So, I told them, "Not at my house.  At my house, Dad does all the work."

I could see my husband smiling, trying not to laugh because he knew that would bother me.  And I'm sure he knew how absolutely untrue that statement was.  As I started to speak in protest, Precious realized her mistake and started to further explain.

Precious:  "I mean not everything.  I just mean that he goes to work and you don't."

I guess I should be happy that she recognized that I do actually work hard.  Of course, I hadn't really that day, so maybe she has a point.