September 03, 2004
#208 :: Contents of a Small Boy's Pockets
So we packed light for this vacation, figuring we'll do a load of wash at my parents' place while visiting, to save having to lug all the extra clothes that we would otherwise wear once before repacking them. And a few minutes after moving the load to the dryer, the machine starts making this horrendous crashing clatter. My mother roots through the steaming, half-dried clothes, and pulls out this fine array of heavy little objects: small rocks, pebbles, acorns, a bottle cap, and a key. My son, clearly, has inherited one of my filthy habits. We had forgotten to empty his bulging shorts pockets before tossing his clothes in the wash. Look for future entries from him here once he develops a bit more of an eye and grows old enough to write.
Let me make this clear. It wasn't just a clatter, it sounded like a trapped bicycle banging around in the drier, screaming to get out. My first pass yielded a handful of stones, not enough to gravel a driveway but enough to make a significant noise, but the clatter didn't stop. It took three passes to unearth every pebble, doorkey (whose? Key to what???) and agglomeration of acorn caps and we never did get the pennies out of the drum. Lovely kid. Takes after his dad.
Posted by: RedWriter at September 6, 2004 06:39 AM