Doing the Dishes

I don't know how much of an individual's personality is inate. I'm not sure if they are born with a goodness or badness, although I suspect we're all born somewhat good and innocent as Freud presumed. I'm also quite sure that my bias when looking at my son retards my objectivity, but I'm just going to go ahead and say it.

My son is a sweet and good person.

I'll give you an example. He loves to help. Ok, he's 17 months old and he doesn't know the difference between chores and work. But I can still pretend that he's dilligently trying to help me and his mother do things because he wants to. He even helps do the dishes. No, we don't let him touch the knives, so put the telephone down and stop hitting your Child Protective Services speed dial.

He started doing this out of the blue the other day. And for probably the first time ever as parents, we managed to catch something like this on camera. This all got particularly funny because as he set about doing his task of taking the dishes from the dishwasher and handing them to Dada, he never smiled. He was just working on a task. I couldn't maintain that same composure, as you can see.

So there you have it. Proof, beyond the shadow of a doubt, that my son is 17 year old Ghandi with hair. And to think, you probably just assumed this was going to be yet another silly blog I wrote bragging about my son doing some medial task that amounted to nothing near what I claimed. Shame on you.

Coming Soon: My Future's So Bright, I Gotta Wear Shades