Where’s the button?

I hate to be the stereotypical father, but I frequently find myself presenting the kids with “when I was a kid” scenarios. I never tell them that I had to walk uphill to and from school in the snow—snow was a novelty to me when I was a kid, and I never lived close enough to a school to walk. My comments are more along the line of “when I was a kid, I had to wash the dishes by hand.” 

I wouldn’t say these things if they weren’t constantly complaining about having to do the simplest of tasks, like loading and unloading the dishwasher. One day, about a year ago, I really began to wonder if the kids were coming to rely on technology a little too much. “Boys, come unload the dishwasher,” I called. This was one of the few responsibilities that our two oldest boys had at the time. As usual, my two oldest did not come right away. The only one that did show up was my third oldest son, who was then three years old. He was ready and willing to help. After intently staring at the dishwasher for a moment, he looked up at me with his face scrunched up and asked, “Where is the unload button?”