Last night I made spaghetti and meatballs for dinner. Z was skeptical because he finds meatballs wildly offensive (he doesn't enjoy a ball of meat he has to bite into... so i either have to break his up or make... tiny ones just for him. And because I've the maturity of a 13 yr old boy... I had a good time giving him a hard time about his tiny balls... heh heh. But I digress...) These meatballs were subject to extra skepticism because they were also made from ground turkey, instead of his meat of choice: beef.
He ate a healthy serving of spaghetti and tiny balls (heh) and then told me... "This was really good". (Note the missing word 'actually'? It wasn't 'actually really good' it was just 'really good'. Success. Men can be trained.) then he asked if I wanted to go get my new Christmas toy set up... and I said, "Yeah, but we need to clean up dinner first..." As I was reaching into the freezer for a pint of Haagen Dazs. Noting the icecream in my hand Z asked if that means he had to clean the kitchen by himself, and I said "No, not neccessa-- (wait, what am I saying?!?!?!?!) Yeah. I guess so, Z." And I plopped myself onto the couch with my ice cream to enjoy what was about to happen.
Z is laughing uncertainly about tackling dinner cleanup and i am giggling with glee wondering how this had actually happened! And then... he spills something. And FREAKS out. And of course the spill is entirely my fault because why would I leave a half-empty open bottle sitting out like that (Please note: Z has never left a half consumed container of ANYTHING sitting open ANYWHERE in the entire 27 years of his existence, so you can understand why my over sight is an unfathomable offense... Did you get through that without laughing? Yeah, me neither) So he's in the kitchen all flustered and hacked off and telling me I am in charge of cleaning up the floor since the spill is my fault-- and I am pretty sure he is serious, but the whole thing, and the drama of it all is making me giggle as he is arguing the 'fairness' of him having to clean up after me...
Ah... there we are. I honestly don't think that he really wants 'fairness' in our home... because i am pretty sure life as he knows it would change drastically-- no more homemade meals, dish washing, laundry, or grocery shopping from Mrs. P. If we are being 'fair' he can probably do those for himself.
Buuuut... we don't really want fairness and keeping score and not helping each other in our house. No one would be happy then. However I did enjoy that just for a few moments he experienced my daily frustration of being expected to by myself clean a mess that was made by someone else or for the benefit of someone else (food and dishes anyone?). I'm a little bit glad he experienced the 'unfairness' of it all. But to be honest, I don't really desire that anyone experience that for too long...
So I went in to help. I did make him clean up the unfair spill on his own.
And... don't tell anyone, but as much as I relished the moment sitting on the couch with my Haagen Dazs while Z was busy working... I actually much preferred the later moments with him in the kitchen laughing at each other, dumping the trash, and putting our dishes in the dishwasher.
I don't want to be fair-- just together.