Washing up

Billie the baby is six years old.
She is just finishing her diary entry.
"How do you spell Miss Mandy?"
She asks.
Her grip is correct and her writing deft and efficient.
As a teacher and her Mum,
I feel a bubble of pride warm my chest.
Now what to do?
Her earnest little face asks.
"Would you like to help me with the dishes?"
Her answer beams from her face,
And my chest again re-inflates.
Aprons donned and a small chair reversed acts as stool.
The rinse water, child's blood-warm.
She uses a bottle washer to help the rinsing process.
And carefully places each glass and utensil into the dish rack,
Up side down.
She is meticulous.
I watch the mid morning sun pick up the flecks in the rinse water.
I breath in and inwardly smile,
At this perfect Summer idyll.