Oldest son has late classes on Monday. Therefore, before I left for work this morning, I assigned him the task of finishing up the stray laundry. With youngest son’s two soccer games this weekend, each smack dab in the middle of both days, I managed to leave a basket … or two … of unwashed clothing as we tripped into the week. I hate that. I do. I like having things tidied up from one week to the next so we’re starting fresh on Monday. Because let’s get real … Monday’s are bad enough without having to stare down last week’s leftovers.
I came home this evening … after youngest son’s baseball practice … to find that oldest son actually finished the laundry and deposited the basket of folded clothes upstairs in the master bedroom. Again, I don’t want to sound like an ingrate.
Whoever taught the boy to fold laundry oughta be bullwhipped. I swear to y’all, the basket of clothes was about 2 feet high … by 2 inches wide. I found my jeans folded to the size of a loaf of bread. Youngest son has hoodies that would fit into a teacup. I asked oldest son if it was his greatest desire in life to be the first laundry origami champion. He smiled and said, ‘At least I finished it, Mom.’ Ooooh. Touche’.