Question: When will I learn?

Fool me once, shame on you. Fool me twice, shame on me. Fool me thrice, I’m a freakin’ idiot.

How many times do little bright supposedly washable crayons have to go through the washer and dryer and stain ever so permanently the many, many clothes whose only sin in life were being slightly soiled before the washer/dryer operator gets a clue? So many lost pieces of clothing now bear the permanent scars of crayon. Washable, my ass.

I feel pretty stupid about letting this happen THREE times in a row. One other time recently, a pen went through, which was possibly my own doing. But what I’ve learned in the past week (yes, it’s only been that long, shut up) is that we have reached a watershed moment in my children’s lives: it’s time to check their pockets.

And that’s not a big deal. Yet.

I’ve had several run-ins with errant wads of Kleenex, but that’s usually a pretty low-damage situation. But what will happen when my little boy puts something I don’t want to see in his pocket and I find it while doing the laundry? Will we have an afterschool special moment or will I just freak out? Or will he or she freak out? Shall I just freak out now?

(As a sidebar, did you know that the Chic song, “Le Freak” aka “Freak Out” was originally written as “F*&* Off”? Apparently members of the band, Chic, were refused entry into Studio 54 and they were pissed off about it, so they wrote that song, but in order for it to get radio play, they had to change the words. True story. VH1 never lies.)

There are so many things that a mother doesn’t want in her children’s pockets. Some things of course that come to mind, are cigarettes, drugs, stolen goods, dead food, condoms, and any form of medication or makeup not officially sanctioned by the matriarchy.

By the time my kids are putting condoms in their pockets they’d better be old enough to do their own damn laundry. I'm terrified just thinking about that.

Seriously, it’s another chapter now. Little pocket treasures. What will I find next?