Sibling rivalry. Back in the day Ed and I did the supper dishes, not dinner, it was supper. I was the washer. Ed was the drier. I’m not sure how it evolved, but the drainboard had to be wiped off and put away, and we had a fierce competition to see who ended up with that added responsibility. If I could drain all the water before Ed had the dishes off the drainboard, it was his to clean up. On the other hand, if he had all the dishes off before the water was down the drain it was up to me. 

Figuring out a way to get the water down the drain before Ed had the dishes off the drainboard was a bit of a challenge, but I was competitive. Both of us would clip along with the dishes, the pots and the pans. In fact, sometimes he would have to wait for me to get a greasy pan cleaned and that downtime bothered him, because he knew lurking under the suds in the wash water was every piece of silverware. My argument was, “The utensils need to soak.”

Down the stretch I would let the wash water out, grab all the silverware, slosh it in the descending water, dip it in the rinse, let the rinse water go, and then scatter the silverware all over the drainboard. It was a race between water-down-the-drain and silverware-off-the-board. Life was not only Good, it was exciting. 

My strategy was brilliant until Ed argued if there was one piece of silverware not clean, it had to go back to me which meant the drainboard was mine. Everyone knows a good drier takes care of what the washer misses, but I’d burned that bridge and clinging food saved him from the drainboard about 49% of the time. I’ll never admit he got the best of me!

Now, I get to listen to Hadley and Elle. The two are great friends until it is hair combing time. Hadley has skills, and Elle has hair that needs those skills. Friday mornings they are at my house for piano, dance, and Elle’s basketball and I get to listen to the banter. 

“Hadley, that hurts!”

“Elle, if you want this done sit still.”

I know better than to intervene. Just yesterday, Elle stomped upstairs after Hadley had yanked her tresses one too many times while putting in a fancy braid. Elle put her own hair in a ponytail, and we left for dance. 

“Your hair looks fine,” I offered.

“It’s better than getting it pulled out,” she replied.

Clean silverware; styled hair; and developing relationships. It’s all part of the Good Life!