Tag Archiv: ironing

Education Updates

The Country School, by Winslow Homer. 1871

The Country School, by Winslow Homer. 1871

Boy one has learned to iron. Better yet, he likes it. My iron broke this week so we had to get a new one. Boy one couldn’t wait to try it. In fact, he was so excited about trying it out, he had Boy two standing in line begging for a turn. This is good news for future wives, not to mention the current ironing brigade (that’s me) which now has some budding reinforcements.


Boy two finished paying off damages from his experiments with vandalism. To my complete shock, I found a hole carved the entire way through the girls’ bedroom door one day.

What were you thinking? I said in none too calm a voice.

It wasn’t my fault, he said. I was just trying to be nice. Girl two said she wanted a peep hole for her door, so I made her a peep hole.


Girl one has five pairs of socks left if she’s barefoot, the laundry is completely done, and I look the other way on some of the holes in the heels. I know this because after a full week of daily morning sock crisis, I did a mad thing, searched every crevice of her room for miscreants, then completely washed, dried, and folded everything in the house in one night. Girl one swears she has not conscripted/stolen the missing socks to make clothes for stuffed animals. Either she actually has no idea what has happened to her socks, or I have not found the magic phrasing combination required for full confession. Before this child, I was rarely late. When I am not with this child, I am rarely late. This week marks a new level of accomplishment. If I am not mistaken, we have been late to school now every day for two weeks running.


Girl two brought home some art work. I admired the painted butterflies and construction paper penguin.

I’ll have to put these up where we can see them, I said.

Girl two disappeared then returned.

I’m trying to figure out where the coldest place in the house is, she said. Where is the coldest place in our house?

I must have been half listening because I didn’t answer.

Where’s the coldest place in our house, she repeated.

Why are you asking that?, I said.

Because that’s where we should put the penguin, she said.


Should this have been obvious?