Tonight was a baseball practice day, so at one point I called Calen inside from playing at our neighborhood playground and asked him to change into his baseball uniform, which happened to be downstairs on the couch. Once I finally walked into the living room for the first time since he changed (and had already left with Brad), I saw this masterpiece of "not cleaning up after yourself":
It was as if Calen had just waved his magic wand, whispered a little "bippity boppity boo", and vanished in a cloud of smoke and a "poof!", the way his clothes had been perfectly dumped on the floor in the shape of an actual human. Even the socks are in the right place.
I was completely and utterly annoyed with the fact that my almost 10 year old is incapable of putting his own clothes way, but instead of grumbling I found myself narrating a poetic story about the mysterious disappearance of the boy that filled those clothes 20 minutes before.
"And then, as if by magic, he disappeared into thin air with a cloud of smoke and a poof, leaving only behind his wardrobe as evidence that he was even there at all."
I was still annoyed. But it made it more fun.
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