I, like most people I know, hate laundry. This doesn’t mean I don’t do it, I just don’t like it; so I tend to wait until everyone has a good deal of laundry in their baskets, basically so I can do it in one hellish day instead of several, only mildly hellish days per week.
Often while walking home from school Hanna, Josh and I will end up walking with two of their friends who live between the school and our house. This was yesterday;
Friend to Hanna: Why are you wearing leggings and shorts?
Hanna: Because my shirt’s not long enough to be a dress and I don’t have any clean pants.
Friend looks at me, looks at Hanna: My mom makes me wear my stuff two or three times unless it has a stain on it.
*Thinking to myself: Seems to me that’s the deal at our house too.
Hanna: Yeah, but I still ran out.
Me, when we get home: Hanna, sweetie, can you please tell me when you’re out of clothes?
Hanna, deadpan look on her face: Ok, mom. I’m out of pants.
I guess that makes today laundry day? *sigh* Time for another cup of tea.
Just so you don’t think I’m neglecting my kids, Hanna’s 8, Josh is 7 and they both know how to bring their respective laundry baskets downstairs to the laundry room. In fact, after our discussion, they did exactly that last night. And it turns out Hanna did have pants left, but “They weren’t in the right drawer.” Did I mention that they put away their own clothes?