Their Father’s Daughters

Posted on January 15, 2010. Filed under: children, Parenting, Uncategorized | Tags: , |

Every item of clothing that touches his body lands in a heap by the bed. Every last stitch.

Until I pick them up.

The kids are just like their father.  While I wouldn’t mind if they all looked like him, why do they have to act like him?

When I’m brave enough, I open their bedroom doors, though I know better. And yep, there they are. Swelling mountains of dirty clothes piling higher and higher. Where they’ll stop nobody knows.

The other day, I had to get up at 4:30 (that’s a.m.) to run to Wal-Mart and get printer ink for the Spanish papers that somebody waited until the last minute to print out. Darting through the aisles, I came upon a display of bath towels. Wow, I thought, this is what they look like.

Clean towels! What a novel idea.

We didn’t have any. Not one. And it wasn’t because I don’t do laundry – it was because I couldn’t find the laundry to do it!

I bought some new ones. They’re missing now, too. They’re somewhere in those I wanna be like my daddy piles.

The only thing that isn’t missing is a black bra. It’s on the floor of the SUV.

Now we’ve gone too far. It’s time to put my foot and authority down.

Dear 16 year old, your bra fell out of your bag. That’s embarrassing. Pick it up and put it in the house.

Her response was a sigh, followed by “Okay.” Loosely translated, this means “There, are you happy? Now, please shut up and leave me alone!”

Five days went by. Five days of me and the bra driving around town, doing errands, going to ball games. It’s still there.

Last night, the 15-year-old sent me a text. Mom, this is embarrassing, but I’m going to spend the night at Allison’s after the game.  I forgot to pack my black thong. Can you bring it to me? Here’s the road map to find it….

So, I put on my face mask and gloves and ventured into the bedroom. Then, me and one pair of black thongs jumped in the SUV and took the bra for another ride.

When they get home, we’re going to have a long talk. If they’re old enough to wear black bras and thongs, they’re old enough to be responsible for them.

There is still a glimmer of hope. I might get lucky and this time they’ll listen.

Their father, well, that’s a cause that’s as lost as the towels.



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4 Responses to “Their Father’s Daughters”

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Huh…I see now this is an inherited trait, despite the fact that I was forced to rigidly comply with a new laundry sorting technique that my wife came up with (a basket for every type of load!), I still come home to find her work closes strewn off throughout the house so she can change into sweats as soon as she came home.

My mornings are greeted by fresh waist high piles of laundry (none of which are mine) that seem to have sprung up while I was sleeping.

Unfortunately, this issue is spreading throughout the state, its just a matter of time before we all fall victim.

Another brilliant post! My daughter, (Allison – 7) is a complete SLOB… clothes always all over every square inch of her room. Wow… I don’t look forward to the bra and thong days. So much for Dad’s help with the laundry.. he will totally freak out when he sees those things and realizes they aren’t mine!!!

oh yeah… just wait, they’re best buds now, but when the kotex come out, he’ll master the art of disappearing!

So true…my boys emulate their dad so much in both the good and the bad 😉

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