Did you ever want to announce to the world that you didn’t
pick out the clothes your child is wearing?
When he was about eight, my son Fred had a favorite pair of
sweatpants. I wish I had a nickel for
every time he put them on dirty and sneaked out of the house before I saw what
he was wearing.
One time I hid them in the bottom of the laundry
hamper. He looked there but didn’t dig
down far enough. Laundry day arrived and
I pulled those sweatpants out to wash them.
Fred saw me and grabbed them, and we had a tug of war right beside the
washing machine. I held his wrist, so he
wouldn’t rip them apart in the crotch, and I tried to reason with him. That never works, but I always try it.
Gagging at the stench, I said, “Let me wash them.” He said, “They’re not dirty.” I shoved them into his face and said, “Smell
them.” He said, “They smell fine to
me.” I could see that he was immune to
both odor and reason. I turned on the
washing machine and said, “They’ll be dry before you come home.” He looked disgusted and threw them in – just
like that! I don’t know why. Can someone tell me what makes kids tick?
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