It’s been a long day. A very long day. I woke up early after getting much too little sleep (all week) and was off to work. A nine hour day there, with two more hours of home work to do while watching the three little angels. 
There is always a certain air of anxiety on the days that my wife works. This is illustrated by the fact that by the middle of my evening I was spraying off the hardwood floor with a hose I had dragged in from outside while sucking up the water with a shop vac.
You see, my son and oldest daughter got the idea in their heads to give pops a hand, and help clean the house. Unfortunatly they did this as I was trying to get some work done downstairs with my youngest, who was taking a nap. At least they were being quiet.
My son had mopped the entire floor. He used an interesting dry mop technique that involved dumping out three quarters of a bottle of dish soap onto the floor and then scrubbing it in with a sponge mop. I’ll give him this: it did shine.
In the mean time, my oldest daughter had been doing the dishes. It would almost qualify as washing, or at least washing was involved. Basically she took all the dirty plates and rinsed them in the sink. She then proceeded to take every other dish she could find (mostly clean of course) and rinse those in the sink too. I will be doing the dishes for days now.
And how could I get mad at them? After all, they were honestly trying to help.