Kittyboy and Housework

I'd already been teaching Kittyboy how to load silverware in the dishwasher, and put it away when it's clean. He also could gather his laundry, and put away his clean clothes (the putting away, sorta kinda).
Well, now he does a lot more. He can gather his laundry and the bathroom laundry in one hamper, and dump that hamper into the washing machine. He can empty the dryer into a basket and bring me the basket. He can sort out his clothing from everything else. He even can SORT OF can fold his own clothing.
I had been thinking to teach him the microwave. It's on his level, and I could tell him a few minutes before getting up to start dinner, "Please put two potatoes in for so many minutes," that kind of thing - then I thought good and hard about how much easier DON'T TOUCH is than "Touch only when/how I tell you to." Now, I've had him stir at the stove before, but the radiating heat is an un-ignorable reminder to take care, and the microwave would appear deceptively safe by comparison, and that could lead to carelessness. He's good at stirring, and careful. And were I to put a pan on the stove for soup, sit at the table chopping ingrediants, and have him on a chair putting what I chop into the pan, I'm still the one setting up, turning on the stove, and he can't reach the burner controls. Letting him add and stir, that doesn't remove a Flat-Out Prohibition on anything. But the microwave.......... A little knowlege could be a disastrous thing. No microwave yet.
But he could sweep, at least spot-sweep with a dust broom. He's learning how to load dishes other that silverware, and a few days ago, insisted that he could put in the soap - "Oh, let me, let me!" as he ran to get the box. I helped. Had he been a puppy, he would have been wagging his tail!
I'm guessing four is an age where being a Big Helper is REALLY fun, and it's not so much "work". That would make this the perfect age to train!
And he's plenty strong enough to haul a full (and full-size) clothes hamper, lift his half-size one over his head to dump in the washer, and carry garbage bags to the front door. May as well use those muscles to the max!

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An update, after a long absence

So! The-Little-Fetus-That-Could, still IS. 22 weeks and counting. I am resting, resting, resting, and taking my blood pressure, which has been generally above "wonderful" but comfortably below "call the office". What the chances are of "Kittyboy all over again" (28 weeks, HELLP drama) depends on which doctor is looking at me, I think, which is either annoying or amusing, depending on my mood. My regular ob-gyn, Dr. Z, was pretty much happy with the way things were going, the many tests all came back at least acceptable, and apart from one little incident that involved a couple hours of having my BP monitored and a pre-eclamptic panel run on a Saturday afternoon, it all seemed fine. Except, to me, it seemed something, somewhere, somehow, was less than fine. Just little nagging oddities - the stairs at church seemed to put me out of breath, a walk that was normal in the first trimester would leave me exhausted the next day. I wasn't nesting, I was tired. I would sit for a moment and feel my limbs, back, and trunk muscles all give a great sigh of relief, and not after a day of work either. And the incident that sent me to the hospital for blood testing and blood pressure checking was exceedingly weird, sudden hand-swelling, out of the blue, 9 a.m., so that my fingers tingled and hands felt weird to close.
We have a pregnancy helpline through our insurance, and I must say, whatever Husband's employer is paying is worth every penny.
So I had just decided last week that at my next appointment with Dr. Z, I would mention, "So I know the tests have all been fine, but I just think something's not necessarily fine..." It's like when something, somewhere in the kitchen, is juuuuuuuust starting to go, not bad, but "off". All you know is that sometimes, at the sink - or is it closer to the garbage can? - you just get this whiff of something. But the garbage is out, the sink is clean, and then, darn it, just caught another whiff. What the heck? Am I smelling things?.... It was like that.
Then Monday, I had a sono appointment. Not seeing Dr. Z, just checking on Baby. Everything seemed good, tech mentioned she (baby's a she) was a little small, but neither of Baby's parents come from tall families. Then the nurse said "the doctor" would come in and talk with us.
Dr. T, whom we'd not met before, is a high-risk pregnancy doctor. I think she and Dr. Z have to compare notes (haha) because she's not at all convinced all's well. According to HER, the chances of Kittyboy-all-over-again could be 25-50%. She said I would be getting a blood pressure cuff for home. Aye aye, Cap'n T. She asked if I was taking baby aspirin. Um, nope, no one said to, but I will now. I took a big breath and said, "Okay. Blood pressure cuff, baby aspirin. What else, what do we DO?" She paused a second and said, "Well, there's really nothing you CAN do, if it's going to happen."
She did add that modified bed rest might help.

I've since calmed down, reassessed what exactly she SAID, not what my pessimist brain HEARD (which of course was the worst of all possibilities) and taken this as doctor's orders to take my body very, very seriously. I lay down enough throughout the day that when I have been up and lay BACK down, there is no release-of-tension, sigh-of-relief feeling, because if there were, it would mean I should have ALREADY been down. And laying down to that extent has amounted to partial/modified bed rest. I avoid ANYTHING that makes me have to breathe like I've been running, which means very slow on stairs, as few as possible (we live in a one-story house, I only take stairs at church), I sit whenever I'm not doing something (and all through church, basically), and Kittyboy is learning a great many household tasks.
But THAT is a story for another day... Kittyboy doing housework is a post all its own...

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