Today, with the big one, we have laundry to fold. Usually it’s something I do alone, during lunchtime, when the boys are not there, or with my wife at night chatting about our day. This week, I was caught by other activities and the pile of laundry to be folded seems to be endless. He proposed himself as a reinforcement.
Each of us has his own basket (I takes the grown-up’s clothes, while he takes the children’s). We’re starting out by separating the clothes by type (pants, tee-shirts, underwear) then, as he forgot since last time, I show him again how to fold everything.
I leave him to his folding and whistle while folding my own pile. From time to time, I turn my head, and I see that he does a good job. Quickly, he complains.
– Our clothes are too easy. Can I try it with your own clothes?
– Of course. Come on, let’s swap our buckets.
And here we go again, I separate the clothes of the little one and those of the big one and he folds one of my jeans. We whistle and sometimes he sings. At the end of the song, I watch him. He folded two jeans and two t-sh…
– Why did you fold my T-shirts the wrong way?
– Aaaah no Dad, it’s just that they’re big, so I found another technique. I put them down, then I fold them like that, you know, then like that.
– Uh… okay, but then you’ re gonna make me huge folding marks. Look, when you unfold, it makes a cross in the middle of the shirt!
– Oh, yeah, but that’s okay. You work from home, no one sees you!