Sometimes I feel that I am fighting a losing battle, every day I do several loads of washing but we appear to have a self filling laundry basket and however much I do there is still more waiting. There is an unwritten rule that any money that turns up in the washing pile goes into my money jar. Usually it is the odd coin from Sam's pocket (why do boys trousers have so many pockets these days?) but on Sunday I found that Robbie had decided to go one step further in the money laundering stakes. He had left a £5 note in his shirt pocket and it emerged from the washing machine damp but intact, I wasn't allowed to keep it for my jar, but at least it didn't stain the shirt.
On the subject of laundry, Robbie hasn't adapted well to doing his own ironing, in fact on several occasions I have come down to be confronted by a vision of Homer Simpson in his pants busy ironing a shirt – it is not the best start to the day! I think a week of doing his own shirts has made him more appreciative. I spoke to him about it at the weekend and he squirmed when I reminded him what he had said the week before. I decided to give him another chance as far as the ironing is concerned, but if he complains again I will starch his smalls!
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