My dear child is my letter L.
My first born, smart, sweet child. She is going through a difficult stage right now but even in the midst of it she is adorable and good.
She often sits next to me as I fold her laundry and exclaims at each item as I fold it. “Mom, you washed my Belle panties, thank you!” “Oh, thank you mom, you washed my pink dress!” She’ll be entranced with a particularly serious wonder pets episode and all of a sudden as I pick up a lace- edged sock snap out of the television induced stupor and, in a voice breathless with gratitude, utter her deepest thanks for all of the effort I put into ensuring the cleanliness of that sock. It may not even have a mate, but by damn, it’s clean and she is grateful!
I think I may start doing her laundry more often. I’ll encourage the wearing of multiple ensembles each day just so I’ll have things to fold.
Maybe I should always keep a basket of clean laundry close at hand so when she’s wailing, making demands, and generally being unpleasant I can grab and fold a tiny pair of Curious George panties and be reminded of the sweet nature concealed within the bellowing creature before me. That might be the best idea I’ve had all day.


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