The joys of raising children…or not

It is 100+ degrees. The humidity is at New Orleans levels …air you can wear.  I drive by a house a mile down the road from me, and a gentleman is unloading hay. I stop and help.  Our clothes are soaked with perspiration. He invites me in for a beer.  I accept. We sit at the kitchen table . His early teen daughter walks in and opens the dishwasher. From where I am siting there appears to be only one pan in it. She removes it, inspects it, finds something stuck to the inside, and in an exasperated voice announces, “it is still dirty”.  She puts it back in the dishwasher, adds more soap, and starts the dishwasher.  The gentleman quietly says “ I am too old to go to prison for abuse. Let’s go outside.”

I like to think I have some say in my children's actions.

I am sure he spoke to her after he chilled.