It's winter in Chicago right now. That means cold (high of 9 degrees, it was eleven below when I woke up). It also means that there is lots of salt and dirt on cars that can't be washed because it's too cold and it just goes right back anyway. And those of us with light colored coats - me with my champagne coat and Little Miss with her lilac one - have dirty coats. Except it's too cold to wash them because we don't have warm enough coats to wear while our coats are being washed and dried.
So our coats are dirty. Very dirty. Almost embarrassingly dirty. My next coat will be grey.
My mom mentioned this to Little Miss the other day, and Little Miss explained the too cold to wash the coats issue. But it's ok, Grandma. My mommy will wash my coat before we give it to the poor people. Because we do always donate our outgrown clothes, although I need to work on her phrasing.
Yes, I'm sure she will, Little Miss, my mom agreed.
Because if we don't give them our clothes when we outgrow them, then they won't have any clothes to wear, and they'll have to go to school n@ked, she asserted sadly, a knowing nod to my mom.
That's ridiculous, Little Miss, Mister Man retorted indignantly. The big brother always knows how things really work, and he's not hesitant to point out where someone else might be ... incorrect. If they don't have any clothes, they don't go to school n@ked. They have to stay home from school then!
*snort* *giggle* And yet, it's so wrong. Yes, we had a long talk about poverty and its implications (especially after I just got back from my No Kid Hungry Cooking Matters camp last night), but their logic still cracks me up.
Can I get you to tweet for me so I can win a Super Bowl Party with Flatout Wraps? Just tweet this daily: I think @honestandtruly would make a fabulous @FlatoutBread Super Bowl party host! http://bit.ly/f9w6wN #FlatoutSB (And thanks!)