That's Crazy

As I was folding laundry in the quiet of the afternoon (and it was only quiet because Henry was sleeping and Oscar and Lily were playing at a friend's house), I was suddenly horrified by the realization that I had possibly sent Lily to play in her underwear. Earlier, Lily had been eating a grape popsicle, which she had of course dripped on her skirt, and so I had feverishly pulled the skirt off her to get the stain out before it set. I remembered seeing Lily in her underwear and her complaining about not having any pants on. And the next thing I remembered was Shannon was here, to pick up the kids, and I was running around crazy, trying to find Oscar's disappearing flip-flops for the thousandth time. I eventually gave up the search and sent Oscar in his bare feet. So Oscar without shoes and Lily without pants? But wouldn't Shannon have said something to me, like, "Where are Lily's pants?" Then again, Shannon is very polite, so maybe she wouldn't have said anything, for fear of offending me? 

But, then I distinctly remembered seeing Lily wearing a jean skirt before she left. Thank goodness that at age three Lily can almost single-handedly care for herself. Survival mode has kicked in.  

Today I threatened Oscar and Lily that their shenanigans would surely send me to the nuthouse, and I asked them, "Do you want Mommy to have to go to the nuthouse?" They shook their heads solemnly, and then Lily asked, "Mama, will you be at the nutcracker house  forever?"

No, Lily, but sometimes it feels that way.