If I could spend the summer my way, I would spend a lot of time at Plymouth Plantation. I love it there. I love talking with the historical interpreters. It's a process by which you can devel into the past with a personal touch. We've cooked there, cleaned there, worked on a mishon, talked about present day Wampanoag life in a wetu.
Each time we go, I make sure the girls have a few questions already in mind. Last time the big deal was over child labor laws. Probably because my own have just inherited the task of washing the table after dinner. Unfair, was the cry that came from the masses. Yeah, right -- was my response. Wash it.
To their surprise, at the age of six, children of Plymouth were expected to act, and take on more responsibility, like adults. I was all smiles when I heard that one. Especially when they set the middle one on to milling corn for the corn cakes. Of course, every other child in the house wanted in on the fun. I wonder how much fun it would be, if it were their real job?
Of course, I am lucky. On a good day the girls are asking what they can do to help. I guess, they are really hungry and would do just about anything to get dinner onthe table. I've handed off more carrots and celery for salad that way. And by the end of the day, I'm greatful for the help.
It's just too bad, when their bellies are full, they need to be reminded to wash the kitchen table.
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