Little Brother is looking for a snack. I hear him rummaging around in the kitchen. He just called to me: “Mom, what do we have to make me smart?”
Meanwhile, I am gathering up laundry. Middle Sister has a real talent for creating fake laundry. She looks at something, thinks about wearing it, and then leaves it on the floor for a while until she puts it in the hamper and I wash it. After I wonder why I haven’t seen this item of clothing on her since I last washed it, I start to seethe. But usually she’s not home to hear me rant, because she’s gone to school already.
Well, this week is Easter vacation, so I get to interrogate her about why her robe is in the hamper after I just washed it last week. “Middle Sister,” I call, “did you spill something on your robe?” (We just had a discussion the other day about not needing to wash the robe every time it’s worn for half an hour to cover up pajamas).
“No, Mom. I slept in it.”