Last night I told my seven-year-old son to go take a bath. He was filthy. As usual. He went upstairs and took his bath. When he emmerged, he looked clean and shiney. He was also in his pajamas. Okay. Nothing unusual. Except he was grinning from ear to ear. That usually means trouble.
"What did you do?" I asked. No use beating around the bush.
He giggled. "I took a bath with my clothes on."
"What?" I said. I couldn't believe it. "Why in the world would you jump in the bathtub with all of your clothes on?"
"I was hot."
"Plus my clothes needed to be washed, too."
I looked at my goofy son. "Couldn't you have at least taken your socks off?"
"No. They were dirty, too."
I went in the bathroom. On the floor was a sopping wet sweatshirt, a sopping wet pair of jeans, a sopping wet pair of underpants, and a pair of sopping wet socks. I picked that dripping wet stuff up and hauled it down to the washing machine for a proper wash.
I tell you, I never know what that kid is going to think of next!