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Life of a Peach

Life of a peach

My washing debacle continues…

Life of a peach

Oh help! Son discovered his pink shirt – the one I turned a yucky mauve by washing it with something blue. When he found his new blue singlet last week he was curious, even bemused, but now he’s put two and two together… I hid the shirt before fleeing to Australia. But he found it yesterday and texted to say he was ‘really not impressed with the change of colour’. I replied ‘Eek! Twas an accident. Your blue jumper did it. Very sorry. Luv u.’ Then he replied, ‘Caught out. DISCOVERED. Haha. Love you too. Ya deeeek.’ I suppose my son calling me a dick is small price to pay. I had imagined worse.

But I had a conversation yesterday with a young thin blonde thing who berated me for still doing my son’s washing. You’ll make it hard for his girlfriend or future wife, she grizzled. Maybe, I said, but I like doing washing. In truth, even though I have a reputation for causing shrinkage and discoloration from time to time, washing, hanging it out to dry and bringing it in smelling of sunshine is one of those household tasks I enjoy. Son, for his part, loads and unloads the dishwasher, cooks great meals, puts the rubbish out, and, being 6ft 2”, is very handy at removing spiders from the ceiling and getting suitcases down from the top cupboard. I think the most important thing to teach is to SHARE the load.

That’s how I see it anyway.

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