One energetic weekend, we got a bunch of “take care of the family” tasks done. It felt like the week ahead would have a gentle pace. We felt fruitful.
Part of our success was the laundry. We had a week’s worth of underwear and school clothes ready for our youngest kid. So the weeknights looked to have more time for family dinners, chat and recreation instead of hectic chores.
He was standing in the hall, saying “Good job clean up the floor” over and over. It was a phrase we came up with to praise him for picking up his room; he’d taken it over to say, “Hey, there’s a mess for you to deal with.”
Sure enough, he’d managed to get dressed, pee through one set of clothes, put on another, and get pee all over those, too. Then he took some of the wet clothes and tried to put them away – in the drawers full of clean clothes.
A good chunk of our weekend effort sat in pee soaked piles. We stood there sulking over another night in the laundry room, washing loads we’d just cleaned the day before.