He is 12.
He is my nicest kid. He is a middle child, and always wants everyone around him to be happy.
He also can't find squat.
"Shayne, could you bring me the book I left in the family room?"
It could be the only thing in the whole room. Literally. The whole room could be empty, and that kid would still come back to you empty-handed.
"Shayne, can you put this in the fridge?"
And you will find it the next day, in the pantry.
I have thought about having him tested.
Except for the fact that he is pulling straight A's in school. So I don't think he is broken. Maybe just selectively broken...at home.
We would usually follow up his botched errand with a "what is wrong with (you) (your eyes)?"
We tease him about it now, since it is so seldom that he actually follows directions correctly, and has the good fortune to triumph!
He attempts...and then fails, and comes back to us, empty-handed, and slump-shouldered.
All we can do it laugh now.
So imagine my surprise, when the other day, he had a random success!
I believe in positive parenting, so I made him document his milestone on the family calendar.
We had another string of break-throughs this week, that I wanted to document on the calendar as well.
This is my husband.
|(He even looks better-looking to me, after this week)|
I came upstairs the other day, and Sam was quietly putting all our clean laundry away.
It didn't stop there.
Our dishwasher has been crapping out.
I know it is shocking, but we aren't the best pre-rinsers in this house.
I barely dare mention it to Sam, when the dishwasher is crapping out, because he is a fanatical pre-rinser.
And he judges us.
When he takes the dishwasher apart, he cleans out the filter, and the spinny thingie, and he SAVES ALL THE COLLECTION OF GUNK TO RUB IN OUR FACES.
Yep. Post-clean, there will always be a guilt tupperware on the counter.
Full of interesting things like:
Crusty Mystery Meat
So anyway, the same week that he put the clean basket away, he also cleaned out the dishwasher.
And there was no tupperware.
Internets, it doesn't end here!
Sam works graveyard shifts, so I often leave him in bed when I get up for the day- then when he gets up in the afternoon, I make the bed.
(Or sometimes don't.)
But I am the official bed-maker, when it gets made.
No one saw this coming...but he also made the bed.
And put on all the decorative pillows...where they are supposed to go.
I found this strange...this string of events.
I was a little leery.
I did some sleuthing in our insurance records.
I wondered if maybe I had a terminal illness that I had forgotten about.
Or maybe...Sam was secretly transgendering into the woman I always wanted him to be?
Then, internets, the next one will blow your friggin' mind, as it did mine.
Without me asking or even suggesting, or hinting- he scrubbed the shower clean.
I am thoroughly embarrassed to have to admit to this back-story, but it must be told, for you to understand the magnitude of this final miracle in this string of events.
Our shower was gross.
It had that orange slime in the corners.
I knew I needed to get to it soon....it was just that I shower after I go to the gym.
Sometimes my arms are so tired I can't scrub.
And other times, my legs are so sore I cry when I drop the soap.
There just hasn't been a good time.
So I have resorted to showering without my contacts in, so I am blissfully unaware of how much worse it gets with each passing day.
Sam cleaned it. Spontaneously.
What is going on?!
I thanked him profusely for each thing.
I offered to...uh, "make him cookies", as a thank you, in the middle of the afternoon!
He said he was okay.
I had to brag to someone.
Sorry, but my husband wins this week!