Oh and some funny kids stuff

Jordan was making completely unreasonable requests in Walmart the other day (as most requests in Walmart are) when I said that "we most certainly do not need $20 plastic hands". To which he replied without hesitation and full of conviction - - -

"Well I smerkaly DO!"


(and in translation that is my darling son trying so hard to talk back to his momma but simply unable to figure out what in the heck she just said. So what does he do? Throws whatever it was back at me. most certainly = smerkaly. Not quite sure how you'd spell that but I did my best.)


Another real doozie (though I can't say that I know how to spell that either) -

being told that he can't do something simply "infurnerates" him.
As in -
"Jordan, I'm sory but we'll just have to wait until Dad gets home and we have carseats."

"Ugh (and an exasperated sigh) it just infurnerates me when you say that!"

translation: infuriates. The child is infuriated.

The maniacal laundry basket

I've come to the conclusion that my one true nemesis is the laundry basket. Once something goes into the basket it might never come out again. This isn't to say that I don't do laundry constantly or even to say that I don't fold the freshly laundered clothes. It is, however, an admission that at any given time you are sure to find at least one sad little laundry basket in my house full of abandoned items (I won't say where you might find this basket since it travels from closets to offices, always one step ahead of company). Now- these items might include widowed socks, half of a set of pajamas, a fitted sheet (because I do not like to fold them), and occasionally a skirt that requires hanging. These garments are all too soon forgotten and usually joined by others in similar situations. It doesn't take long for a single basket of renegade articles to give way to two baskets and so on. My only guess is that as the first basket holds tightly to that first stray sock, its mate ends up in another basket to be forgotten. It seems at first to be a rather sad state of affairs. Pathetic almost that so many socks and outfits go unworn simply because they are separated. Sad, lonely little socks. And yet. . . I am not entirely convinced that there isn't some degree of deviance, of malice, of conspiracy. Perhaps it is not us who abandon these items but rather that the laundry basket holds hostage and never returns so many things that go into it.

There are some baskets that are too far beyond hope. The one with close to 100 stray socks. . . too far gone. The one with a strange combination of clothes for kids to grow into and clothes they have grown out of . . . probably too late for it too. But I've stopped the cycle. The clothes get folded coming out of the dryer and the piles are carried directly to closets and drawers. Thus, eliminating any interaction with the abhorred baskets at all. See - I'm smart. Always gotta be thinking.


Oh and ummm . . . . should I mention that I think laundry baskets are some of my very favorite things in the whole wide world. Where else can you put the things you don't know what to do with? I have close to a dozen. They match the decor. I like the colors. I like the versatility. Its a love hate relationship I suppose. Nevertheless. . . . . be wary.