Inside Out

Every now and again my husband will do a load of our boys laundry. And recently I have heard some irritation in his voice about all the pants that come to the dirty laundry bin inside out.

“Don’t they know?” He said.

And it registered.

Nope. They don’t.

Suddenly, I too cared about the pant thing. I paid attention to every pair of inside out pants that came my way. When I did laundry I called the boys back and told them to fix the pants.

Some things we just know, it just comes naturally. How to properly launder pants – that needs to be taught (at least in this clan).

At swim lessons today my middle changed into his swim suit and, once again, inside out pants.

Normally, I fold his clothes so they are ready for him when he is cold, and eager to quickly towel off and toss his clothes back on.

This time I paused.

Was I the only parent with crumpled up clothes sitting on the bench cheering their swimmer on? Likely. But I was curious. What would he do when he discovered his pants unfolded and left the way he’d tossed them?

When he and I returned to the changing room I asked if he wanted to toss his shirt on first – I hate being cold after getting out of the pool and his quivering lip produced my empathy.

“No Mom,” he said, “I’m going for the pants first this time.”

So I handed him the inside out pants and he promptly took hold of the leg and pulled it back through. Unperturbed.

I looked at him. Happily pulling his pants on, stumbling as he hopped the left leg and then the right leg on, chatting about his day. And you know what? I thought he would be annoyed. I thought he might look at me and say, “why are my pants inside out?” Instead, he took responsibility for his pants and how he’d left his pants without complaint. I’m sure in some parenting book somewhere, this is considered a win.