As I pull jeans, pajamas, shirts, and dresses out of the baskets, I start setting aside the ones I know are too small. I also start putting your older sister's clothes in your piles because I know she's growing out of them and you're growing in. It won't be long before you've caught up to her.
The basket empties a little more and the pile of clothes for Goodwill and yard sale is getting bigger. Almost as big as the pile of clothes to be put in your dresser. I stop for a moment to soak that in. The purple snowman jammies that I watched your sister run around in were passed on to you. You crawled, rolled over, walked, ran, and climbed in them too. Now they're in the other pile. The pile that's being put away for good. Even if you had a little sister of your own, you two were so rough on those snowman jammies, there's no way they would last through another round.
You're pushing a little wooden chair around the living room and I cringe at the noise of it scooting across the tile floor. The scooting is covering up you singing "For The First Time In Forever" for the millionth ti me in forever. You stop and look at me, confused why I stopped "doin a lawn-ree".
When you ask "mama all done foldin a close?" I point to the basket and shake my head. You ask what I'm doin' and I say writing. You run and throw your arms around my neck and wipe your allergy induced snot all over my shoulder while exclaiming "MAMA WRITING?! Oh I LOVE IT!"
I'm pretty sure you don't know what writing is, but thanks for the support. I'm definitely grossed out by your nose and the wispy blonde hair stuck in the never ending snot, but this hug is too good to care.
For all I know, soon I'll be putting big snotty hugs, enthusiasm for something you know nothing about, and gibberish off key songs in the pile with those snowman jammies.
And now you're standing on the counter trying to sneak gummy worms.
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