I mowed the lawn today. But the dishes piled up in the sink. The bills were paid, but the debt of unfolded laundry grew faster than the national deficit. I filled a prescription, but we’re out of stamps. I plug one leak and another springs elsewhere. There is just too much to do around here.
Once in a while I get a smile out of this crazy life, though.
On Friday, I finally finished sorting all my baby clothes for donation. I forgot to put away a few items, which Toddler promptly noted. She was especially interested in a brand-new baby t-shirt the girls outgrew before I even had a chance to put it on them. I emphasize OUTGREW here. Toddler decided that this would be the perfect thing to wear, right now. To avoid the titanic meltdown I saw coming on that napless afternoon, I gave in almost immediately and allowed her to don the tiny garment. Now, Toddler is of the larger variety and currently wears a size 3T-4T. Needless to say, her big round tummy busted out of the little 0-6-month shirt, which read “New Acquisition” across the chest. Lovely for a newborn. Not so for a giant two-year-old. Now consider that she was already wearing too-small plaid shorts, a trophy from an earlier clothing battle. Homemade tiara on her head and hot pink rock star glasses on her face, I let her go out to play. Every time I looked at her, I got a chuckle.
Alas, for Glop her appearance brought to mind words like “hillbilly,” “redneck,” and “white trash.” As soon as he pulled up after work and saw her prancing about on the front lawn, he said to my baby girl in a most grown-up tone, “Toddler, you’re embarrassing me. Go get changed.” At least he didn’t blame me for her fashion disaster. Though I wonder if I’m too lax now if it will all come back in my face in ten years when she asks me if she can wear a 4T shirt to school. Given how my world works, it probably will.