Embarrassing, but true. How could the dear boy not put his clothes into the basket? I mean they are inches from just dropping them in.
So, I called him back up to put them into the basket.
"Oh!" he says, "I was just right there." At least, he was quick about it.
Then as I walk down the hall I notice Gretchen announcing that it was time for underwear gymnastics. Under what circumstances do I owe this pleasure?
Probably not appropriate to post, but it's life and it's only half of what I experience on a day to day.
The other day Gretchen asked to borrow my "boobcase" so she could go downstairs and not have her brother see her you know whats. Boobcase? Really?