You Smell Them

Spotting the large mass of clothes in a pile between the bedroom wall and the dresser in my five year old son's room I sighed in exasperation and began to rummage through it all disgruntled and frowny on a Sunday night.

The boys had picked out 5 or 100 books each to read and were sitting patiently on the bed waiting for bed time stories.  My husband was laid up in our bed across the hall in the dark because...well because he had never felt so tired in his entire life and every single bone and muscle in his body was aching and he could barely move and 'Ohmygod, ohmygod, I'm in so much pain" was groaned and moaned over and over and over...and over again to the point where I simply tuned him out with a roll of my eyes and went about business as usual.  As all good and loving wives do. 

I sighed and began throwing dirty clothes out his door into the hallway and scraping unknown food stains off of his school uniform. "Adrian really.  It's great that your clothes aren't all over your bedroom floor but maybe we can start working on learning to fold and putting away the clean clothes. How am I supposed to know what's clean and what's dirty in here?"

"You smell them."

That's when I heard guffawing from dear husbandinsomuchpainhecouldbarelytalk across the hall.

Guilty.  

Children do see and hear all.  

Fact.