My little Eileen has chores. Nothing impressive and certainly more time consuming for me to give her the responsibility of helping the M-O-M, but she enjoys her tasks and I enjoy her help and company.
As I fold clothes, she pulls out the socks. When we are loading the dishwasher, I hand her the forks, knives, and spoons to be placed in their proper slot. Unloading involves lids and pots with only the occasional, "Hep, mama." Vacuuming, well, when Husband is vacuuming as I loathe the noise, she has her duster and runs along the base boards and when we make the bed, she hands me the pillow cases, "Mama, here."
She is my little sous chef in the kitchen as well and has become quite acclimated at stirring, cracking eggs, and throwing flour. She can get the ingredients out of the pantry and bring them to me before gleefully running off for the next. Each trip to the pantry ends with a, "Fishie!" (No honey, it is not time for a Goldfish.) Eileen also puts away clothes. Sitting on the floor, I will hand her jammies or socks or underoos and she will either run them to Husband who is patiently waiting in the closet or run them to whichever drawer they belong in.
Please note the RUN as she has two modes, well, three. (1) Still (2) Running with happy feet (3) Happy dance where she is bouncing up and down, waving her arms, and moving her head from shoulder to shoulder.
Occasionally, she even tries to change her own diaper; we're working on that...