it takes two, baby

so heres the deal-y-oh.

there are things he does around the homestead and things i do around the homestead.
seldom is there a shift between the two.
last night, after i was cozied up on the couch, bub was ready for a snack. he wandered in to the kitchen for a bit, then came back empty handed. i didnt ask why, because i was afraid that would transfer the cooking task back in to my column of responsibilities. after a while, i started to smell something interesting. i ignored it, i knew that something was burning and i hoped that the clean up responsibility could also be avoided.
a few more minutes passed, and the fear that the smoke detectors would start going off and wake up the kids overwhelmed the stubborn 'let him take care of it on his own' stand i had taken in silence. "bub,were you cooking something?" i asked completely nonchalantly.
"Oh Crap! the rice!" he said, jumping off of the couch with lightening speed.
(as a side note, bub has ruined 2 of my sauce pans cooking rice and forgetting all about it. this might have something to do with just how high he jumped.)
it wasnt burned. whew. that was a close one. he stirred it a bit and sat back down with resolve to be more attentive. after a few more terrible plays by the jets, bub went back to check the rice. it was ready. this time he had added a new ingredient. a pot holder. i have no idea how or why, but there, in the pot of rice, sat a boiled, saturated, perfectly cooked pot holder. cooking should remain in the 'beck' column of responsibilities.

today, bub hurt his finger. if you have ever smashed your finger so that it turned black under the finger nail, you can relate to his plight. it was decided that a hole should be made in the finger nail to release some pressure ('pressure' may be read 'blood', in this case.) this procedure involved a paper clip, a lighter and a whole lot of grit. i quickly informed him that it would hurt, and that i could not hurt him. "it is just not in my genetic make up" i explained, and i was released from surgical duty.
i know it hurt him. he kept making a squishy mouth face and pacing the floor. finally, he said "uh babe, its stuck. i need you to get this needle out of my nail." it was stuck indeed. i pulled it out and there was a popping noise followed by an immediate squirt of weird looking black-ish blood. im not really big on blood. it makes me squeamish. so does pulling teeth. for these two reasons, minor surgery will remain in the 'bub' column of responsibilities.

its all about balance.