I love my family

I do laundry every week with my eldest child, hereby known as Elder Youth, and abbreviated EY. we were sorting laundry this week and he tossed a pair of socks in the heavy black load, but immediately regretted his decision.

Why? I asked. My toe socks don’t get dried, but regular socks can be.

Huh? This perplexed him. Why wouldn’t all socks just get dried then?

Because, I explained, for the same reason we don’t dry my bras. The dryer makes the elastic go wah wah.

EY blinked.

It’s a technical term, I elaborated.

What? I call you on your bullshit, Mother, he replied.

Ask Grandma, I told him. She knows.

So we did. We went to find my mom and we recounted the story. When I repeated that the dryer makes the elastic go wah wah, my mom didn’t hesitate.

Well, yeah!

To which EY put on an exaggerated pout, pointed out that what really drove home the truth of wah wah was that she hadn’t even hesitated before enthusiastically agreeing with my choice of term, and that was that.

I love my family. We’re so weird.

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