hired help

"Mama, be careful on the stairs."  

Hmm?  I absentmindedly responded to Obi-1 as I tried to find the best way to fix ribs for this evening's dinner.   Then, as if from far away, he said it again & caught my attention.

"Be careful on the stairs.  We just washed them."

This echoes the things I tell the boys when I've just finished scrubbing the hardwood stairs.  My mind races to track back through the conversation we had minutes ago...

"Boys, Mama needs your help.  We have friends coming over and I need to finish the recipe and get things cleaned up before Daddy gets home..."

I was sure I asked them to pick up their superhero costumes.  Sure of it.  Perhaps I did, but they decided to "help" by scrubbing the stairs.  I think they're wearing the superhero capes, which means they did  pick them up.  And the stairs undoubtably should be scrubbed, though they weren't on the urgent last-minute cleaning list.

In about two seconds I had raced into the front hall to survey the project.   Obi-1 held the special washcloth I use to scrub my face, a bit sudsy and dripping from his hand, and there was a puddled trail down the stairs and through the hall.  The stairs were thoroughly soaked from wall to rail, including the landing at the top.  Obi-2 held another washcloth, similarly drippy, and pointed to the stack of videos that were barricading traffic from the freshly washed stairs.

It turns out they used my (expensive, of course) foaming face cleanser for the project.  They dutifully filled washcloths with water, squirted a generous amount of cleanser on top, and trekked down the stairs to wash.

I must admit, they are clean now.  It took only a quick mop with a towel to clear the puddles, and a fresh scent of hypo-allergenic, anti-aging cleanser now greets my guests.   I'm sure it's a good thing for those 97-year-old wood floors. 

Considering the cost of this hired help, I can't complain.