See? I promised I’d share funny stories from my kids even after I ended the weekly feature titled “My Kids Make Me Laugh.”
Recently, my second grade son said something so outrageous I had to stop EVERYTHING to text my husband and share it with him. It was over towels… and philosophy… and love.
(Because I knew hubby would want to share in the moment, right in the middle of his important business meeting. I’m thoughtful that way. Hubby loves my texting habits.)
It started over a towel.
Not just any towel. It’s MY TOWEL.
None of the bathrooms in our house is completely finished from the remodel. I’ve functional parts, but every single bathroom still has tiles and mortar stored under the sink – for the day we finally get it all done.
Between the remodel and the pool in the backyard our towel collection is a bit on the raggedy side. For the most part, it’s a collection of mismatched and worn out towels that I’d be ashamed to donate.
Except for MY TOWEL.
I love my towel.
It’s huge. We have blankets that are smaller than this towel.
It’s fluffy and absorbent.
It’s mine, and I don’t want to share.
Unfortunately, my entire family loves this towel. Even though they know it’s mine.
As big as it is, the kids drag it on the ground when they use it. Normally, that means they’ve drug it through the cat litter box.
As big as it is, it takes up half the washing machine every time I have to wash it.
I’ve taken to hiding the towel. It’s the only way I can keep my kids’ hands off of it.
The battle of the towel is epic.
Ever since I read the first chapter of Unglued I can’t bring myself to yell about the stupid towel. I do everything I can not to lose my temper over that stupid towel.
Here’s the link to Unglued on Amazon – just in case you need it: Unglued: Making Wise Choices in the Midst of Raw Emotions
So the other day, Watty steps out of the bathroom wrapped in my towel. I stood there in shock, watching him drag the my precious towel through the cat litter box.
(No, I can’t just buy more of the same towel. I can’t find any like it. I’ve tried. If I find them again I’m buying one in HOT PINK just for me.)
I’d been planning on taking a shower after the kids went to bed, so it was kind of a big deal. I was tired. I was trying so hard not to be ugly about the whole thing, but drat it all I just wanted to take a shower and go to bed.
So I started crying. Over a towel.
My kids are both standing there staring at me like I’m growing another set of eyes. They have this shocked and confused look on their faces. I can tell – they’re afraid they are in trouble, they’re worried I’m about to start yelling, and they honestly aren’t sure what they did.
I managed to sob out a few words
It’s… MY… towel. I wanted to USE it.
Watty responds in typical fourth grade fashion.
It doesn’t have your name on it. It’s a towel. We have more.
As I stood there struggling with my rage, I was speechless. I was trying so hard not keep my perspective and give a proportional response to all of this. At the end of the day, it’s just a towel. It’s not worth it.
That’s when my younger son saved the day.
If you love it, let it go.
Words of wisdom from my pint sized philosopher. I looked over at him in puzzlement, I truly don’t know where he learned that phrase.
His eyes lock with mine. He whispers…
Let it go mommy. Just…. let it go….
(Imagine it said like bad teen drama dialog. He was channeling all of that.)
I thought you’d be impressed.