How Mama learned how to be more efficient

Rascal has recently shown interest in helping around the house. I should be happy about this, right?

"Clean up time" for him means "chuck everything you see into the toy box". This may include, but is not limited to, toys, bedding, laundry (both clean and dirty), mangled VHS tapes, McDonald Happy Meal toys, and various yard waste that has somehow migrated into the house.

Still, it does look cleaned up when he's finished. So I didn't have a problem in principle when he offered to help fold laundry.

I started by balling a single pair of socks and sending him down the hall to put it in the proper drawer. While he was gone, I frantically folded and stacked. When he returned, I carefully balled the next pair and sent him back with it. He looked over his shoulder at me suspiciously. I was making much too large a dent in the pile during his absence.

He returned and received the next pair. This time he stood there and demanded pair after pair until his arms were full. Then he raced to the room and back again. Since I didn't have a supply of socks ready, he was available to help fold other things. He found Husband's underwear and a sneaky look crossed his face. My curious gaze gave me away, so instead he stacked all the underwear (regardless of owner) in a neat pile.

Once we were done, I headed back to the dryer to pick up the next load. Rascal accompanied me.

When I headed toward the living room, he quickly rerouted me to the master bedroom. He then explained in exaggerated patient tones that it would be better to base our operations here to capitalize on the proximity to Mama and Papa's closets.

I looked at him incredulously. He rolled his eyes, then instructed me to put the basket down.

"Yisten Mama," he insisted (he can't pronounce the letter L). "I know dat. Dis very easy, so we do yaundry right here."

I suppose my university education was all for naught. Good thing I have a preschooler to set me straight.