I’m sitting at my desk working away and Scott walks from the living room/kitchen area: What do you have in the washer?
Me: Lexi’s blanket. She wanted it washed.
Lexi, from other room: Mattie licked it and I wanted it washed.
Him: You should go put it in the dryer.
Me: Me? Why? I’m sitting here working and you’re twice as close.
He moves onto the elliptical in the office: Come on, mommy, go dry her blankie for her.
I get up, annoyed: OK, I’m sitting here but yet I have to get up to do this. Whatever.
He follows me into the kitchen into the laundry room. I open up the lid to the washer and it farts (sorry, I don’t usually use that word, it’s just fitting). I spot his fart machine sitting on top of the blanket. He cracks up laughing, lying his head in his arms on the kitchen counter
Me, rolling my eyes and throwing the wet blanket into the dryer: Do you have to be so juvenile?
He’s still laughing.
I’m still rolling my eyes.

