Mother's Little Helper

When I was about 10 my father had his own business, a garage. He worked on everything- big trucks, little bitty cars, even tractors. He even had a paint bay. I remember he painted some of the RC cola trucks. My sister and I would help him peel those big ass stickers off the truck, then "help" him put the other stickers back on. We'd hold stuff for him, a big, important job I'm sure. He'd "let" us pop any tiny air bubbles left on the stickers. I had a blast that summer.
He had a loft in his shop, nice and cool on a hot day, my cousin and I would play there sometimes.
He'd let us clean his tools. In gas of all things. I still remember how my arms would prickle after a while in the gas.
One time, He was working on a Semi. You know that big circular thingy on the back that the trailer attached to? Well, it was covered in grease and grime. I couldn't believe my luck-my father let me take his own personal World's Largest Flathead Screwdriver and peel and scrape all that grease off. Damn, I was happy! I couldn't understand why my mother was so pissed when I came inside covered from head to toe in grease...

I was a Daddy's girl. If he stood up, I stood up to follow him, just in case he was going somewhere. Didn't matter what he did. I really wanted to be a mechanic, I coulda been a contender, I tell ya!

When my oldest was little, he loved to "help" too. Wash dishes, bathrooms, especially vacuum. We've got this great shot of him with his blond curls and such a serious look while vacuuming. I think all small children are helpers. Pete like to help with the laundry and windows. Re-Pete like to wash cabinets and cook. She's recently discovered a love of vacuuming. Took us about 20 minutes to vacuum the living room, it did. But as she proudly told her Daddy, "It's spotless!"