Welcome to the KingZoo and Funny Farm, where we learn to live, laugh, and love together. Here you'll find snippets of life in our zoo, parenting tips we've learned along the way, reflections on shining God's light in this world, passions in the realm of orphan care, and our journey as parents of a visually impaired child with sensory processing disorder. Have fun!
Thursday, December 20, 2012
Mysteries of life explained
Everyone in my house knows that I will do laundry on Wednesdays and Saturdays. I only do the laundry that is brought to the laundry room and placed in appropriate bins for whites and colors. I refuse to wander to every room of the house collecting laundry. Walking a pile of laundry to the specified room is rather easy and can even be done in shifts if necessary. If the laundry doesn't come to me, you'd better hope that you don't need or want something that's in your dirty pile because I won't be working on it again for a few days. The older kids now know how to do their own laundry so if they forget to bring it to me, they just take care of it on their own. They are not so fond of folding, however, so we're working on that.
Recently, three weeks had gone by and I was yet to find the younger boys' dirty clothes in the laundry room. I gave them my reminders but the rest was up to them. After seeing a few too many clothes being pulled out of their dirty bin and being re-worn, I decided to give them one more chance. If the clothes didn't make it to me by the next laundry day, then they were going to do their own the next day. In the meantime, I tried not to think about how many times they had worn the same pair(s) of underwear. And that they were okay with this.
So there we were in the laundry room, one boy at each washer, separating colors from whites and colors, measuring detergent, transferring from washer to dryer, and learning to fold. About halfway through the folding process, one of my pre-teens was obviously frustrated by the number of clothes he had to turn right-side out. He made a few manly noises of displeasure and could finally bear it no longer. In frustration he cried out to me, "I don't understand why the washing machine turns all of the clothes inside-out! How does it do that, anyway?"
With that certain gleam in my eye that can only mean a teachable moment is about to commence, I very gently explained, "Oh, my son. My wonderfully brilliant son. He who believes there's an injustice in the world of laundry appliances. The washing machine doesn't turn your clothes inside-out. The dryer doesn't turn your clothes inside-out. You turn your clothes inside-out every time you take them off."
He took a moment to ponder this revelation; staring at me in disbelief, looking at me and clearly thinking, "Is she telling the truth? Could it be? Is it possible that my own actions could cause such a thing?"
"Yes, my child, it is true. The washing machine isn't out to get you. You are the master of your own clothes. You determine whether they are washed inside-out or right-side out."
His next look was a bit difficult to read. He was either totally amazed that I owned this vast knowledge or in shock that he could really be responsible for such an act.
Well, you learn something new every day.