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Not the greatest swordsman in the world
I came home this afternoon to the sight of the lad enthusiastically helping his mother do some dishes, spied through the kitchen window.
Sure, when I got inside I mostly found a big puddle, as it turned out what he’d been washing was mostly the chair he’d dragged over to the sink and the cupboard door in front of it, but if we just quietly set that aside for a minute I think we can all appreciate the sentiment.
It’s good to remind ourselves amongst all the tears and the shouting and the exhaustion and the puddle-mopping on the part of everyone involved that we’re all just doing the best we know how to help and to look after each other. Sure, his ability to actually meaningfully get things done is hampered by how easily he gets distracted and by concern about where his next snack is coming from, but the same could be said about me.
I’d like to try to keep us all alive. He wants to help. Yes, there’s some big scary things that we have no control over looming, but I reckon that’s not a terrible place to be starting from.
But being dry would be a nice bonus.