Little Helpers

A few years ago, I had to move due to the nature of my job. As you all know, when one must move there is much preparation that must take place. I had the menial task of filling in nail holes. My kids saw me doing this wondrous chore and secretly decided they would "help" dad out. So there I am filling holes with goop, and my wife is in another room packing, and sorting things. The kids, one boy, one girl crept downstairs to the kitchen and found some "goop". Then they stealthely returned to my sons' dwelling.

About an hour or so goes by and the wife and I are working up a sweat. When I realize its been a while since I heard anything from the little people. Of course red flags instantly popped up everywhere. Kids equals noise. No noise, and you've still got kids, but that usually equals trouble. So yeah, it was time to find them.

I investetigated the lack of noise and tracked it down to my son's room. There they were. "Helping" dad, with a family sized jar of peanut butter. The contents of that jar had succesfully patched all the holes in the walls, toys, bed posts, carpet, and anywhere else between the floor and three feet up. Including there persons. I was overcome with joy! What good little kids. NOT!!

Actually it was pretty hard not to laugh. I did my best to sound mad, and the villians were properly punished. A couple of swats. But I mean come on, how could one get upset over a little extra help? I explained to them the best I could that sometimes the best help is no help.