Bring a Towel!

Daryl was being a bit standoffish this evening. At every opportunity, he disappeared to his room. While fixing dinner, I called him into the kitchen with a simple, “Daryl! Come here!”

“Why?!”

“Because I called you.”

When he entered the room and I asked him to unload the dishwasher, he expressed his displeasure and reluctantly went about completing the task. As he grabbed an ice cube tray and tried to rush across the room, the water sloshed out and onto the floor.

“Make sure you get a towel and clean that up.”

Several minutes later, I looked up from the spaghetti to see that Daryl was gone and the sizable puddle was still on the floor.

“Daryl!”

“What?!”

“Come here, please!”

“Why?!”

“Because I called you.”

He entered the room and I pointed to the floor. “Remember? You need to clean up the water you spilled.”

He flopped and flailed about as I headed to the pantry for some vegetables. When I returned, he was gone and the water had been spread around the floor, but was still very much present.

“Daryl!”

“WHAT?!”

“Come here, please!”

“WHY?!”

“Because I called you.”

“Bring a towel!” added his dad.

This time when he entered, I again pointed to the floor and said, “You didn’t dry the floor enough. It’s still really wet. You need to get a towel.”

The flopping and flailing doubled in intensity from the last time and he stomped into the kitchen and opened the drawer that holds the kitchen textile items.

“I did use a towel! I used one just like this one!”

I looked down at the item in his hand. “That’s a potholder, Daryl.”

Once the laughter subsided and as I hugged him tight, I said, “No wonder you couldn’t get the water soaked up. Potholders aren’t very absorbent. Go get one of the bathroom towels.”

He pulled the disappearing act again at dinner – leaving quietly with a bite of spaghetti and some vegetables still on his plate.

“Daryl!”

“What?”

“Come here!”

“Bring a towel!” called his dad.

When Daryl walked into the room actually carrying a towel, everyone again dissolved into laughter – including him. At our insistence, he finished his dinner before leaving again.

He was called in several more times. Once to rinse his plate, once to rinse his dessert bowl, and one final time to put away the cups from the dishwasher that he had left on the counter.

“Daryl!”

“What?!”

“Come here!”

A little voice… Hal’s… called from the bathroom down the hall, “Bring a towel!”

I looked up at my husband and smiled as he and Jane giggled quietly. Fortunately, all of tonight’s humor at Daryl’s expense was handled by him with good grace.

Advertisements