Cracking the whip

P cooked dinner last night, I love it when he cooks, he's much better at it than I am, to do with being a family of caterers I suppose, even though he's strayed from that path he still likes to keep his hand in.

Just as we'd finished eating someone came to the door, I got up and answered it and when I returned to the kitchen to clear up there was P washing up, I couldn't resist it I patted his bum and told him what a good boy he was, he jumped and told me to be careful or I'd get my bottom covered in soap suds. Oh, I said, and how would that happen short of me jumping into the bowl. I think you know how it would happen, now grab a dishcloth, he said. And I did. But the idea of a sudding did kind of appeal to me.

It reminded me of this picture I had. Sorry, not sure where I got it from.

"You know perfectly well that washing the dishes is one of your chores, George. I do not expect to come down from my shower and find you in front of the TV with all of the dishes from dinner still in the sink. Now get those plates cleaned immediately while I sit here and flick your backside to keep your attention focused. And if you miss one speck of dirt I'll thrash your bottom so hard you won't be able to sit for a month of Sundays! Then when you've finished all the dishes, you can get down and give the kitchen floor a good scrubbing before you start work on hand-washing my undies.
Hurry up mister or your bottom's going to be hotter than that water sooner than you think!"

Ronnie

xx