Clothes Hunt

Jane was digging through the clean laundry basket. She sat down on the couch with an armful of clothes and asked, “Do you know where my black shorts are?”

On volleyball game days, she’s allowed to wear her team T-shirt to school instead of the required polo shirt, but only if she wears black shorts instead of khaki. She only has one pair.

“I assume you wore them last Thursday?”

“Yes. And Monday too.”

“Oh, well if you wore them Monday then they are either still dirty or in the dryer. They should have been in the load you washed last night.”

“They weren’t! I don’t know where they are!”

“Well you might have wanted to start looking before this morning. Put those clothes back in the basket one at a time to make sure you didn’t miss them.” I then walked into her room to perform the Mommy Search.

I noticed an awful lot of clothes piled up on her desk. Quite a few were the dresses we had bought in Denver. I guess they had finally migrated out of the suitcase but not yet made it to the closet. It was difficult to dig through the clothes since they were interspersed with a dozen magazines, some posterboard, pencils, markers, school papers, cups, even a few breakable objects – just to keep me on my toes.

I found a workout shirt and a school polo, but no black shorts. So I turned to her chest of drawers. The top drawer was hanging open with so much stuff spilling out that I doubted its ability to close. I checked it anyway and then pushed it closed enough to open the second drawer. This one was mostly empty which meant it was very easy to spot the black shorts folded inside. She entered the room about that time so I handed them to her.

“What?! I never put clothes in my drawers so why would I look there?!”

I shrugged and returned to my room, where my husband handed me a pair of Jane’s khaki capri pants with the tags still on them. “Does she need these?”

I didn’t even ask why they were in our room. I just headed back across the hall and asked her if she needed them. As soon as she nodded, I tossed them on her bed and began to leave.

“Wait! They don’t belong there!”

“I know. They belong on your desk.”

I got the look.

“No! I was going to tell you to hand them to me so I could fold them up and put them in my drawer.”

Right. And she wonders why we find her unpredictable.

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