That is YOUR Daughter
Last night, while I was playing with Cate before we all went out for dinner, I noticed her carrying around random articles of clothing. Dirty stuff. The stuff we cast aside before bedtime and we’re too tired to accurately hit the hamper (or even care to try). I also noticed that, hey, these things aren’t coming back! So I tailed the little monster to see where she was taking my socks.
Lo and behold, she was depositing them in her own hamper. Grab a dirty sock (or shirt, or onesie, or whatever) trot to the hamper, drop it in. Wash, rinse, repeat. She needed a warmer outfit before we went out, so as she was running around, I managed to wrangle off her shirt and pants, and politely requested that she put them in her hamper. She did so, with great pride.
Candace, that is YOUR daughter. I certainly didn’t teach her that.
So, this morning, Candace was sorting laundry downstairs, and sure enough, Cate’s hamper was filled with clothes. After Candace had emptied it. Half of it was Cate’s, the rest was a conglomeration of shoes, toys, and clean clothes from last night’s load.
I think it’s funny. Candace thinks it’s natural. That is YOUR daughter, hon.