Grace upon watching me fold laundry: “Mommy, have you done laundry by yourself? Like without Daddy here to help? Without Daddy here to watch you? Wow!”
She was dead serious. To be fair, Kenny usually does do the laundry – he pulls double duty on the weekends and folds it all while watching soccer. (Yes, yes, I am onto his tricks, but folding laundry isn’t my favorite thing to do. I’d much rather scrub the toilets.) (No, not really.)
Gavin upon taking a shower after I scrubbed the bejeez out of the shower doors: “Mom, come look! The shower door! You can see through it all the way!”
Yep, that’s called “clean”, buddy. Don’t get used to it. (Aside – I hate shower doors. Really. Truly. They are the worst. ever. We never had them growing up – we used shower curtains. Easy enough – they look dirty? Throw them out and replace. Shower doors look dirty? Grab your sander and hope and pray you can get the soap scum off.) (Not really, but I’ve often wondered if that would be more effective / easier.)
Grace as we were discussing what to have for dinner (as in take out) one afternoon: “When you were in New York last week, Daddy made us spaghetti and meatballs! AND DUMPLINGS. With rice and broccoli and soy sauce.”
I didn’t tell her that I had made the meatballs for them before I left. Instead, I made a mental note to remind Santa that Kenny needs an apron for Christmas this year.
Moral of this story?
It’s time for a cleaning service.
And I know I shouldn’t take the rug rats’ comments too seriously. Afterall, I had to tell Grace that showing her butt cheeks in Chipotle isn’t appropriate this week. What does she know about laundry and cooking dinner? Hahaha.
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