The Deadly Terrible Tea Party!

Really, it was all Mum's fault. She didn't outright lie to us, but she was certainly economical with the truth.

It was dinner time and my mother looked from the trashed dinner table to the monstrous mountain of dirty dishes waiting next to the sink.

Her eyes gleamed. "Tomorrow, girls, how would you like to learn to wash the dishes?"

We were very young. Her tone implied that she was offering a treat on par with a week in Disney Land.

Rachel and I sat up and took notice.

"It'll be such fun," coaxed Mum. "Such a grown up thing to learn!"

This was decidedly interesting. Rachel and I looked at each other in thrilled naivety.

"Oh YES PLEASE, Mum," we chorused.

Victory shone in her eyes. "Tomorrow morning then," she promised. "Tomorrow, I'll teach you girls to WASH THE DISHES!"

So we went to bed deluded and happy. We got up very early for the great treat. Mum had not forgotten.

"Have your breakfast, girls, and then I'll show you how to wash the dishes!" She put two bread pans into the oven and set the dial to 'raise dough'.

Then the phone rang. It was Grandma and the conversation went on and on and on. It went on for hours. We were bored and we longed to wash dishes. It's tragic really, how keen we were to enter lifelong servitude.

I looked at the sink and an idea dawned upon me. Maybe we could work out how to wash dishes ourselves. What a nice surprise for Mum to get off the phone and find gleaming plates waiting for her.

Rachel and I filled up the sink. We'd seen Mum do that many times. Then we poured an enormous amount of detergent in. Funny how it seemed to bubble over and ooze to the floor like that. It never did that for Mum.

"What do we do next?" asked Rachel.

I didn't want to admit I had no idea. "We fill every thing up with water," I said confidently.

"Are you sure?"

"Yes."

We filled all the dirty bowls up with water and arranged them on the bench. It made a very small showing.

"Now what?" asked Rachel.

I had even less idea at this stage so I said, "now we get everything out of the cupboards and fill everything up with water."

"Ruth, are you sure?" asked Rachel.

I glared at her. I wasn't sure at all, but I wasn't going to admit that to a four year old. "YES! We fill everything up with water and then we put it all back in the cupboards."

That shut Rachel up nicely. After all, I was a sophisticated woman of five.

We worked with commendable industry. Soon every pot and bowl was brimming with bubbling, soapy water. We carried the bowls and pans, sloshing with water back to their cupboards. Soon, like the woman with the miraculous oil flask, we had not a jar left.

"Let's have a tea party," said Rachel.

"Oooh, yeah, let's." I cast one final glance of pride at our accomplishment and noted with interest that the shelves beneath the watery pots were expanding. Funny how they never did that for Mum...

We went outside and began our tea party. It seemed to lack pizazz, so I said to Rachel, "I'll be back soon."

I went into the kitchen and took down a English china tea cup and saucer from Mum's prized collection. We hadn't thought to fill those up with water. It was pretty with pink roses and gold trim. It appealed to my sense of aesthetic and I was inspired. I went into the laundry and opened the cupboard beneath the tub. Some small inconvenience by way of a plastic clip ("it was a child safety lock," wailed my mother, years later), slowed my progress but I had it off swiftly enough. Once in, I was rewarded by a veritable Aladdin's cave of treasures. There were jewelled and fragrant liquids, beset with labels so strange they might have been written in Crylic. I have since discovered they actually said things like, "Highly Caustic Drain Cleaner," "Hospital Grade Toilet Disinfectant," and, "Very Powerful Mildew Remover" in good, stout English.

Here was something to work with! I poured and swirled into my tea cup from bottle after bottle. Synthetic perfumes of lavender and lemon wafted pleasingly from my cup as I, with youthful (and illiterate), abandon, mixed chemicals from containers that prudishly shouted against being mixed at all.

My work finished, I gazed upon my art. This possibly surpassed even my dishwashing triumph! And yet, despite its undeniable beauty, something stopped me from imbibing my creation. Probably some well paid, overworked guardian angel with stress benefits. No matter, I knew who would drink it.

I carried my treasure carefully outside.

"I made you a treat, Rachel!" I sat my offering in front of her.

Rachel looked into my gift. "Um, no thanks," she said politely.

I scowled at her. I was so longing to find out what my drink tasted like. Without tasting it myself, that was.

"I MADE this for you," I began indignantly. "I thought you'd LIKE to try it!"

Rachel looked nervously at the teacup, bubbling with drain cleaner and mildew remover. "OK, Ruth," she said. "I'll try a little bit."

She raised it to her lips and was interrupted by a scream. Mum had found her surprise. "You NAUGHTY, NAUGHTY, girls!" bellowed an astonishingly ungrateful voice from the kitchen. "You are in so much trouble!" Loud stomping footsteps began echoing in the house. They paused as she hit the laundry. There was a second scream, no longer angry but terrified. By the time she reached our party under the tree, she looked completely wild. She pointed hysterically at the tea cup and began shrieking, "HOW MUCH DID SHE DRINK!? HOW MUCH DID SHE DRINK, RUTH?! WHEN DID SHE DRINK IT!!!!???"

I looked at my parent, obviously in the throws of some nervous breakdown and I felt annoyed. I had spent the better part of the morning in the service of mankind and I was receiving very little appreciation. I had worked myself to the bone, cleaning Mum's dumb kitchen and I had selflessly made my sister a delicious beverage which she didn't even want to taste. The world was clearly a cruel and unworthy place today. I gazed loftily at my screaming parent and shrugged with disinterest.

Hours later, when we returned from the hospital where observation and tests had revealed that my sister had absolutely no cleaning products in her system, Mum's horrible mood showed no sign of brightening.

Was it MY fault she forgot to turn off the 'raise dough' setting on the oven?

Could I help it that her two small pans of dough had filled up every inch of her stupid oven and crawled out the cracks around the door?

Who would have thought the treat of learning to wash dishes could be so AWFUL!

Tea party picture generously provided by Jill Wellington at Pixabay. Story © R.M. Hamilton 2021

©R.M. Hamilton 2021