I guess this is one of those things that is just a silly anecdote until you’re a parent and it becomes a sad reality.
Let me preface this with a few notes – I am a notoriously horrible check-the-pocket-before-laundering person. In fact, I think I should be disallowed from doing any laundry at all. It ends in disaster. I’ve washed: cell phones (yes, that’s right people – multiple), bank cards (washed AND dried, thank you very much)(again, multiple), lip balm, a wallet, countless tissues, a newspaper and a pack of gum. I don’t check pockets. I’m a busy person.
So it should come as no surprise that Abi’s pockets would go similarly unchecked. And to be honest, I didn’t think I would have to check them at this stage in her life. She is aware of pockets and enjoys putting her hands in them and saying, ‘my hands in the pockets’. Apparently she also enjoys putting crayons in them, as well.
Blue crayon. All over everything. I think Abi wouldn’t have minded if it had been a pink crayon. I find small solace in the fact she’s at the stage where she’s kind of outgrowing what she has in long-sleeved clothing and it will be warmer weather any second now leading into the hazy, mind-numbing, stupefying eternity that is a Florida summer.
I’m sure this will be just the first of many such events. Does anyone know what I can do with the scraps of good fabric?