‘Twas a normal day. My brother, Harry, and I had just made it home from school and needed sustenance. Stat.

After eating to our hearts’ content, our bellies were full, and so was the sink. All was right in the world. That is, until *ding*. Our phones went off. It is a text from Mom. “Be home in ten.” The sky darkened, my heart dropped, and the room began to spin. When it comes to the dishes, Mama does not play.

My brother was too paralyzed with fear to act. I jumped into action. I became a blur, and the mountain of dishes slowly shrank. Five minutes. I still had to hand-wash the pots. Four minutes. Then the knives! We hand-wash steel in this house. Three minutes. I start the dishwasher. Two minutes. I speed-clean the counter and stovetop. One minute. Don’t forget to scrub the sink too! Keys jingle. The doorknob begins to turn. I dive over the kitchen counter and somersault onto the living room couch, where Harry is still shaking in fear.

Mom walks in and scans the house. She wipes her finger along the counter and inspects it. Clean. She nods in approval as the clouds part and a ray of light shines upon Harry and me. We are safe. Mom begins making dinner, and I watch as my hard work is undone.