Why are boys such a mess? Is it just boys? Or is it an age thing?
Colton has just graced me with a load of laundry that looks like it could walk to the washing machine and crawl in itself. "Where did you find this?", I asked. "Oh, it was under my bed and I found some pushed under my towel rack in the bathroom. I don't know how it got there."
I arch one eyebrow, and I know that the furrows across my forehead must resemble that of a newly plowed field. The thought running through my head rushes forth but my lips don't seem to be able to form the words. I roll my eyes and walk away. That would probably be for the best, I decide.
I now have washed Paden's clothes from yesterday plus his mud wear from today approximately three times. Bleach has yet to remove the clay mud stains.
As I pull in the driveway this afternoon, Colton is swinging. On his upper torso is a white mud stained shirt. Upon closer inspection, I find out it is MY white now mud stained shirt. I asked him why he was wearing my t-shirt and he replies his dad had gave it to him in the laundry he did while I was away for the weekend. I look at him and ask, "And you couldn't tell it didn't fit and was way too big?" But let me rewind. I had stopped at the Breakfast Nook on my way to Springfield today and Steve is wearing my CoxHealth long sleeve polo shirt. Only now it is stained with mud and some other substance that I don't see Shout getting out. Two shirts in one day and I wasn't even the one to ruin them.
As I walk in the back door, I notice my laundry pile has grown more. I'm telling you, I am breeding laundry in Dallas County.
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