I wash the salad, mom

Yesterday I did the veggie pick up from the CSA. I proposed making a salad to Connor...here, kiddo, let's tear the lettuce, now let's wash it...and had lots of fun making the salad clean. We sang songs and tossed it in a colander.

I went up to put Timmy to bed before C's bedtime stories, and when I came back down, Connor says, "I wash da salad mommy!" and handed me some air, like they were clean salad leaves. "Oh wow, buddy, good salad washing!" And we hie ourselves off to bed.

Today I stagger downstairs to the basement with a load of wash. The lid of the washer is closed. Huh. I always leave that open when there's no wash in it. I open it up...there is a huge head of lettuce torn to shreds and welded to the inside of the washer, complete with laundry softener ball. I peer inside -- and there comes the little proud voice behind me: "I washed da salad mommy!"

I now have water lily-scented lettuce glued to the inside of the washer drum. I sat down and laughed until I cried. Then I cried until I laughed.

Oh buddy...you DID wash the salad.