Wednesday, July 25, 2012

To My Dear Son,

I understand that when I speak, to your ears my voice sounds like an adult from the Peanuts cartoon. 

So, when I say, "check under your bed", what you hear is "wa, wa, wa,..." 

I also understand, that, to you, looking under your bed is extra work.  Why clean up under your bed when no one will look under it, except your mother.  :::ahem:::

However, I am wondering, at what point do you realize that your mother knows what she is talking about? 

Obviously, it wasn't when we found that book under your bed, that belonged to JT's 4th grade teacher.  The problem was JT was now in 5th grade, at a different school, and his 4th grade teacher had moved across the country. 

And, apparently it is not sinking in every time you yell from the second floor, that you lack clean socks by the end of the week.  Granted, I have plenty of your socks, sitting in a laundry basket, all without their significant other.  May I point out that, just maybe, it would be helpful if you look under your bed, behind your bed, next too your desk, and under that pile of ... whatever that pile is because I'm not touching it, to find all those missing socks.

To my other son, the same thing goes for your underwear.

Love, Mom.

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