Emily and I were upstairs in my room happily folding laundry. The two of us were holding hands and giving each other hugs in between each garment we'd fold.
Oh, shut up ...
Like I'd actually complain about doing laundry. You all know ... I love it so much. I wish I had more of it to do.
Really.
What?
Okay, even I'm laughing now.
Here then ...
A more accurate picture ...
I'm in my room folding laundry. That part is true. I'm ALWAYS in my room folding laundry. It's pretty much the only thing I do. And it's always OTHER peoples laundry. I wear the same outfit 2 times before throwing it in the hamper. Shit, sometimes 2 DAYS in a row.
Honestly ... since I just throw it on the floor before putting on my PJ's at night and going to bed, it's easiest to pick it back up and put it on in the morning. (That one's for you Big Daddy!) Right?
Why do I always get so side-tracked? ANYWAY -
I'm up in my room ... folding laundry and Emily comes in and hops on the bed. Of course, this causes my piles of folded clothes to topple over and I become a bit irritated.
I said a BIT.
Geez, gimmie a break, will ya?
"Emily, please don't get on the bed ... I just folded all this laundry." I say, CALMLY.
"Mom?" she says looking at me out of the corner of her eye.
"Yeah?" I answer.
"Do you want to know why I like my teachers better than you?"
Unable to contain an immature eye roll, I respond with a fake smile ... "Why?"
"Because THEY are MUCH nicer than YOU are."
"I see." I reply, not wanting to yell and scream and throw a tantrum like a three year old. After all, that tactic has never seemed to work in the past.
Wait.
Yes it has.
Leading by example, I've taught Molly to tantrum like the best of 'em.
Again ... beside the point.
I kept my cool. I mean, what was I going to say? Right? Just let it go ... I thought. Keep folding skid marked stained underwear (that don't belong to me) and keep my mouth shut.
She'll go away.
Find something better to do.
There HAS to be something more entertaining than a mean ol' witch folding laundry.
I guess not.
Emily kept going, "Sorry mom, I didn't want to hurt your feelings. I just wanted to tell the truth, that's all."
Setting down the mismatched socks I had in my hands I looked at her. I 'willed' her to GO AWAY!
"WHAT?" she smiled. "Do you have a problem with that?"
I'm in for it, aren't I?
Heaven help me.
