Walk a mile in another man's socks. Or something.
Last week-end we went to our friends' place for dinner and the kids played outside and Angus's socks got wet so he borrowed a pair from his friend Fletcher. Eve's entire outfit got wet because she didn't just walk in the wet grass - she laid down and rolled in it (I don't know, I don't ask any more), so she borrowed some clothes from Marielle.
Tonight Angus went to his friend Anthony's place and it was raining (because that's what it does now) and they played baseball and basketball and his socks got wet and he borrowed a pair from Anthony. We also have a shirt that his friend Jacob left here at the last sleepover.
Angus was getting undressed for his shower and he took the socks off and I said "throw them in the wash and I'll put them with Fletcher's". Angus said "we're becoming weird people who collect other people's clothing. People are going to realize that about us and then our neighbours will start disappearing and then when we go out walking they'll look at us like this" (makes strange face).
Wow, that was really funny at the time, and now as I type it out it looks kind of dumb (why would our neighbours start disappearing because we have their clothing? Wouldn't they just be looking at us funny because we're wearing their clothes? Am I over-taxing an eleven-year-old's sense of humour? You know what, screw me, it WAS funny.)
Okay then, back to Nicole's beaver post it is.
Speaking of that large semi-aquatic rodent, a few years ago we were out at my husband's grandparents' place, with his aunt and uncle. We were sitting around in the living room and all of a sudden Grandpa turned to Frasier (the uncle) and said: "Did ya find those beaver magazines I left for you in your room?"
I know. I'm a small, small person.