Saturday, August 22, 2009

The Happy Helper

This week, Haki went to play with his friends at Sandfly Bay. He then returned and napped in the bed; fully clothed...and with his shoes hanging off the end of the mattress. When I was re-making the bed, I discovered he had left a sand-print behind in a Haki-shape.

After applauding his creativity, I invited my husband to dust off the sheets and vacuum the bedroom, as I'd just finished the rest of the house. I returned to the laundry to scrub some "mustard" from some bubba-clothes.

I heard the vacuum turn off. I heard Haki wheel it down the hall. Then came a little knuckle-knock on the laundry door. Sheepish, and in his best "cutesie" voice Haki asked, "Where does the vacuum cleaner go?"

I smirked as I opened the door and pointed to the appliance's cubby. "Oh," was his reply. Haki made efforts to put the vacuum cleaner into the cupboard, but it seemed the hoooooover came alive - with the tube writhing in his grasp and its stem refusing to move to match his will. Frustrated, and with a furrowed brow, he then asked, "How?" My smirk grew to a grin, accompanied by a silent chuckle as I swiftly (and with the fluency and grace of an elf) slid the telescopic connection to reduce the rod's length, curled the tubing, placed the cleaner in, and shut the door behind it. I refrained from dusting my hands, despite the urge.

Haki then asked (and bless him for it), "What was the other thing on your list you asked me to do help?" Bless, bless, bless.

I reminded him, "I'd love if you could sweep up the paint flecks from where the car hit the wall the other day - you can just use the dustpan and shovel."

"Oh yeah," came the confirmation, as he walked away. The swishing of his jacket stopped. Haki was standing still in the middle of the open plan living area and kitchen. "Honey?"


"Where's the dustpan and shovel?" The little child voice emanated from my husband's mouth again. He even dipped his chin in as he said it. I walked him to its place underneath the kitchen sink and introduced him to yet another domestic object and its place.

He went outside, and dusted up the trace clues of the accident.

That's right, the accident.

Didn't I mention? Haki got run over by a car right in front of our house last week.

Blink, blink, blink.

Yes, he was hurt...but not nearly as bad as he could have been.

In fact, my concern for his welfare rapidly diminished when yesterday, while examining one of his bruises in bed, I said, "I really should take a photo of that, shouldn't I?"

The child's voice made an appearance then, too, but in a whine; "Aaaw, honey! But it's so much smaller now!"
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