squeaky clean

[whenever i hear the phrase "squeaky clean", regina spektor's "consequence of sounds" pops into my head.  it's probably going to be there the rest of the night.  great.]

the infamous tesla glare.  he does it on command.

Tesla has been in the 'helpful stage' for quite a while.  I find it to be incredibly endearing, if not terribly convenient.  His two favorite things to help me with are laundry and cooking (which includes "washing the dishes", or, more accurately, splashing dirty water everywhere as he pours it from measuring cup to measuring cup when my back is turned).  

He often tries to help me when I'm not watching, so I'll turn around from the stove to find him standing on a chair, attempting to chop vegetables (PUT THE KNIFE DOWN, SON).  Or I'll turn from the counter where I'm prepping veggies to find him on a chair in front of the stove, vigorously stirring a pan of sauteed onions (half of which are now on the stovetop or the floor).  But I usually catch him before he's done any real damage.

He's getting sneaky, though.  Yesterday, I pulled a load of laundry out of the dryer and carried it to the bed to be folded.  A small handful of dryer sheets had worked themselves loose from the pile and I picked them up and chuckled to myself at the evidence of my well-intentioned little assistant.  I folded two shirts and uncovered three more dryer sheets.  A pair of pants yielded another two.  And so on.  I called Silas into the bedroom to see the growing pile I was amassing.  It was then that I noticed the grimy residue that coated all of the freshly washed clothes.

Apparently Tesla had taken it upon himself to grace that particular load of laundry with approximately FIFTY DRYER SHEETS.  

I'm not kidding.

I don't know when or how he did it, but over half of the box made it in there.  At least the clothes smelled extra fresh.

He'll make a good housewife someday.