Checking Pockets
While sorting through fresh pile laundry, I noticed a little midnight blue splotch here and there. As I pull up more and more clothes to fold, there is not just a little splotch here and there, but streaks, huge splotches, whole white toddler collars turned to a tie-died blue-fest. My C Wonder shirt that I wear weekly no longer has crisp thin navy lines over white, but blue and white meddled together as if to portray an overcast day's sky. Now, rather than pulling for clothes to fold, I'm digging for the culprit while I intermittently spew out questions. "Was there anything in your pocket from school this week? Did you happen to stick a crayon in your pocket? Or one of those gel writers? Do you remember putting anything in your pocket? What could this be?" The response is a stream of "no. no. no." Then, as if clarity hit, "Mommy, maybe a long, long time ago someone had something in their pocket and you forgot to check the pocket and then you wa...