Image by cafemama via FlickrSo many dish washing memories are coming to the surface.
When I was a kid (number 6 out of 8) there were always a lot of dishes to wash, and we each had to take our turn being in charge of that chore. It seems that the one around 10 years old was responsible for the task, and of course, there always was someone around that age.
I kind of think that I probably got really gypped by this system. When I was 10, there were still 4 or 5 older siblings in the house, and two younger ones! By the time Barb (the youngest) was 10, who was around to make dirty dishes? Not too many!
The up side to that problem was that I got to practice my engineering skills to the max. Let me tell you, the dish drainer did NOT look like the picture here! 10 place settings plus all of those serving bowls and pots and pans? It was a veritable mountain of delicately balanced trip wires. With a well thought out foundation of plates and bowls, one could achieve quite the megalith. Pity the poor kid who was assigned to disassemble the monstrosity, though he could use this training to be on the bomb squad!
Once that intricate pile was established, however; I found it to be a great place to send in the troops. Dozens of my little green army men could find refuge in there, scouting and taking aim over the low country of the mesa (table) far below. They were perfectly safe in there until some uncaring troll of a sibling came along and reduced their sanctuary to orderly stacks of plates and bowls!
Ah, the good ol' days!