Tre has taken over laundry duty for the great mound o' boy filthy clothes in the basement. I still fold the clothes, but he gathers and sorts them, puts them in to wash and dry, and complains about how messy his brothers are. I understand this, because it is a key part of the laundry process for me too.
This afternoon I was cleaning up the lunch mess when Tre hollered at me from the basement, "Hey, Mom? What did you do with the socks?"
"What?" I bellowed back, thereby cementing my gentle teaching about don't yell at me from the other room, come here and talk to me.
"The socks! The load of whites! They were right here! Where did you put them?"
I rounded the corner to see him sitting on the floor at the foot of the stairs.
...wait for it...
...ON the pile of whites.
I stared at him a moment, and he reached around and pulled one sock out from under his butt.
"Oh. Here they are."
That's when the laughter began. I leaned against the wall, clutching my stomach, and howling.
"It's not as bad as it seems!" He yelled, in an attempt to redeem himself. "I FELL DOWN the stairs. Backwards!"
Well. Now it TOTALLY makes sense.