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I was nearly finished folding laundry on the bed when my two-year-old ran past the doorway. “Please just keep going,” I thought to myself. But, no, she stopped in the hallway, having spotted me, and came back. I could have closed the door, but that would only have piqued her interest. I then worked feverishly to finish folding the last items and get them to the safety of the laundry basket before my daughter got her hands on them, but to no avail.
“Stop helping me!” I said. “No, it’s okay. I got this!” But the feisty little helper was relentless. She kept grabbing my nice, neatly folded clothes and handing them to me in a rumpled mess sweetly saying, “There go!” with each lovingly mangled pile. Finally, when she was done and I was back where I started from, she said, “Welcome!” and pranced merrily from the room.
At least I know she meant well.
-Betsy, mother of 3
Motherhood and Martial Arts 
You’re a good mom to let her “help.” I so relate! But I bet I’m more obsessive about how the laundry gets folded than you are.
If you go to my blog, you’ll see that I gave you an award :o)
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