Here we are at #1's Saturday morning basketball game. All is going splendidly until...
Me: sniff, sniff...hmmm. Someone smells a little ranchy. {I said that in my head in my best church lady voice.}
Me: {surveying the area to pass judgment on the one who apparently doesn't know how to wash clothes after feeding/bedding/checking cattle}
Me: {realizing that the only ones in sniffing distance are town folk}
Me: {panic a little when realizing that the only people sitting in the bleachers that could smell THAT bad would be members of MY 7!}
Me: {not paying any attention to the game now knowing that everyone else is passing judgment on my stinkin' kids and my mothering abilities. But that's ok because now I have a plan - when we get home EVERYTHING is going in the washing machine - on hot - with extra rinse - baking soda - and extra fabric softener. If Febreeze can't kill it, nothing can.}
That's what we did. Washed everything and the kids went through all the hats and gloves to get rid of the misfits that needed to be culled. Why do we have 12 extra left handed gloves? It was a snowy day and it provided some unforeseen fun.
No, she doesn't have premature lack of hormone induced facial hair. It's chocolate milk.
I even played along. Not very becoming but hey it was a snow day. Don't expect pretty.
Who knew sorting hats and gloves could be so fun?
This one didn't help.
Unfortunately,"ranchy" is what we smell like nine times out of ten.
But for a day...we smelled April Fresh!
Becky
