The strangest thing happened this weekend.

I emptied a hamper. Mind you, not ALL hampers, BUT all of the towels, and the hamper that Steve and I share was totally empty for over an hour.

Plus, I broke one of my self-enforced rules and did a load for Charles as well. Decided not to go overboard and do the rest of his laundry, though. I firmly believe that when a child is old enough to reach the dials on the washer, that his laundry should be his responsibility. I’ll pitch in if I’m home on vacation, or they’re in a pinch, or I’m totally bored. And I'll wash a few things of his if I'm running a smaller load.

In response to trusting him with this great responsibility, C has created a rather successful ploy. He washes a load, dries it, and leaves it in the dryer. Then he washes another load and leaves it in the washer. Forever.

Sometimes I finish it for him, sometimes I try to outwait him. I never claimed to enjoy doing laundry, I’m willing to stall. But I try to make him do his laundry. I’m not sure what Meg does these days. I don’t see much laundry of hers done at my house.

On another note, though somewhat related, we have revival this coming weekend. When the kids were little, my key to surviving revival (either here or in Urbana) while working full time and living with young children, was to buy each child all new socks and underwear. By Friday or Saturday of revival week, my mind was so overtaxed (it doesn’t take much), that I couldn’t even find the stuff to wash if I had the time. So, I just figured it was a good time to restock and save some of my sanity as well. Desperate times call for desperate measures.