These are the clothes that he found under beds, inside bedside table drawers, stuffed behind furniture, etc. [Important Side Note: We washed every stitch of their dirty clothes over the weekend. Or so we thought.]
Clean?
Dirty?
A lot of each?
Boys, if you're ever wondering why you don't have any socks, or at least don't have socks that match, this is why.
[By the way, the white one with the B on it is not ours. If your child has been to our house or if our child has been to yours, it ended up here. Please claim it.]
And, seriously? Bathing suits? It's the middle of November. I know it's Atlanta, but our neighborhood pool has been closed for six weeks. I'm not stupid.
And these are school uniforms. Remember: we did laundry over the weekend. This pile was collected on Tuesday. While their Tuesday uniforms were still on their stinkin' little bodies.
So where did these uniform clothes come from? There are two pairs of shorts in there. Last week was below 40 degrees every morning. They wore long pants all week. Old, dirty uniform pants. Some still had underwear attached. Ewww!
[Side note: This is the pile of candy wrappers that I pulled out of uniform pockets. My apologies to their teachers if this was consumed at school.]
So I'm throwing in the towel. And the underwear. And the shorts. And the uniform. And the PJs. I'm going back to doing their laundry, neatly folding it, and putting it away.
Temporarily.
Because this is the laundry that I washed and sorted by child into different baskets over the weekend. It's Wednesday, people!
It hasn't even migrated to their rooms, much less their drawers.
They will stand at the bottom of the stairs and dig through the baskets to find what they need.
They will be six inches from the basket and ask where their bath towel is.
But, lest they think they're getting the better end of this deal, oh no, no, no. Kitchen floors will be washed. Toilets will be scrubbed. Dishwashers will be unloaded. Floors will be vacuumed. Cat litter will be scooped. And this will be above and beyond the chores they are already expected to do as members of this family.
There will be no free ride. And no free laundry either. Frankly, I win either way. Either they get sick of the extra chores and ask to take back doing their laundry and they actually do it this time. On time.
Or I keep doing it, and they keep doing the jobs I loathe.
And these are school uniforms. Remember: we did laundry over the weekend. This pile was collected on Tuesday. While their Tuesday uniforms were still on their stinkin' little bodies.
So where did these uniform clothes come from? There are two pairs of shorts in there. Last week was below 40 degrees every morning. They wore long pants all week. Old, dirty uniform pants. Some still had underwear attached. Ewww!
[Side note: This is the pile of candy wrappers that I pulled out of uniform pockets. My apologies to their teachers if this was consumed at school.]
So I'm throwing in the towel. And the underwear. And the shorts. And the uniform. And the PJs. I'm going back to doing their laundry, neatly folding it, and putting it away.
Temporarily.
Because this is the laundry that I washed and sorted by child into different baskets over the weekend. It's Wednesday, people!
It hasn't even migrated to their rooms, much less their drawers.
They will stand at the bottom of the stairs and dig through the baskets to find what they need.
They will be six inches from the basket and ask where their bath towel is.
And. I. Let. Them.
But, lest they think they're getting the better end of this deal, oh no, no, no. Kitchen floors will be washed. Toilets will be scrubbed. Dishwashers will be unloaded. Floors will be vacuumed. Cat litter will be scooped. And this will be above and beyond the chores they are already expected to do as members of this family.
There will be no free ride. And no free laundry either. Frankly, I win either way. Either they get sick of the extra chores and ask to take back doing their laundry and they actually do it this time. On time.
Or I keep doing it, and they keep doing the jobs I loathe.
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