There I am, minding my own business and awaiting the Time We Need To Leave For School to arrive.
Well, obviously I wasn’t actually minding my own business. I was doing things like making lunches and periodically yelling at the kids to don/grab/remember various things for school.
Monkey Boy passes the About To Topple pile of washing awaiting to be folded. The very same 7 or 8 laods that I managed to extract from the line sometime yesterday afternoon. He mumbles something about when I’m going to “do my jobs”.
“Pardon?” I ask.
“I’ve been wearing the same pants and jacket for the last three days,” he informs me.
I do point out the enormous pile of clothes – all his, and his younger siblings’ – he has somehow managed to avoid eye contact with for the last 16 hours and suggest a pair of pants or 7 might be available in there for him.
A twinge of Mother Guilt about not having ensured there were clean clothes for them nags at me.
But only for a moment. Just until I ponder his comment and figure it’s more like four days …