By the time we went to church this morning the Maker had already been out in the creek and woods for hours. His shoes and pant legs were soaked and muddy, and I noticed a distinct swamplike odor when we were in the car together. Honestly, he took a bath Saturday, but that boy can accumulate some serious nastiness in a very short timespan. When I signed him in at his children’s program at church I told them he was actually somewhat clean despite the peculiar odors, squishy shoes, and the slime on his shirt. I don’t know if they believed me.
The Maker’s clothes show up in the hamper smelling like something three weeks dead that the cat wouldn’t touch. I buy special spray for his shoes, but nothing really works. The Husband, who does the vast majority of our family laundry, says he puts the Maker’s clothes at the top of his wash priority in order to keep them from infecting the rest of our dirty laundry.
Wow. Laundry triage. Who knew it would be a suburban survival skill?
Image credit: men’thedogs on Flickr
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