When Phoebe hears the dishwasher door open, she is like a cat hearing the can opener. She comes toddling as fast as her roly-poly legs will carry her, her arms raised in touchdown fashion, yelling , "YESSS!! YESSS!"
She grabs onto the dish rack and pulls herself up onto the open door, ready to help. Any and all dishwasher emptiers residing in this house instinctively empty the knives and sharp utensils in lightening speed before Phoebe reaches her goal line.
While this is a cute ritual, past experience has taught us that babies crawling up onto an open dishwasher door will eventually lead to a broken dishwasher door. And so, each time Phoebe scurries in, yelling a celebratory "YESSS!", she is met with a pair of arms, much bigger than her own, that scoop her up and carry her off while the attached mouth gives a firm "Nooooo."
I'm not sure if she senses our muffled giggles, tempted by her cuteness, trying sneak out and join in her game, or if she is just stubborn, but it is like she is anchored by an invisible bungee cord. As soon as she is set down a safe distance away and the dishwasher emptier of the day has run back to try and finish the task at hand, Phoebe repeats her ritual....over, and over, and over again.
During last night's dishwasher emptying, I couldn't help but notice her little footprint that was left behind as my arms scooped her up and carried her off. It melted my heart and I had to capture it forever.
No sooner had I snapped this photo was Phoebe trying to crawl back up onto the door. As I scooped her up once more, I couldn't help but wonder - when she is 16, will she be so eager to step up to the plate and help with the dishes?
