I am lucky to married to a man that is extremely willing to help out around the house. Although it is not often that you will catch him pushing a vacuum around, you will often find him with his hands in dishwater or knee deep in laundry. This is a big and much appreciated help.
We have been married for 16+ years and have had the benefit of 6 children, 5 of them precious little girls. Since the advent of their births, none have grown past the age of 4 years. At least that's the way Mr. Weasel's reality believes it to be.
Eldest Weasel, our first born girl, is soon to turn 16. She wears my jeans and shirts. We are able to share clothes on a regular basis, and it works well for us. She is slightly taller than I and similar in build although she is much more fit and firmer than her mother.
A father that sees a little girl of 4 years twinkle in his eyes + a teenager in reality + laundry = a nervous breakdown for Daddy.
Not too long ago, Mr Weasel was folding a load of laundry and came across some ladies underwear. Immediately, he stormed into the room, holding the panties outstretched in an accusatory manner, obviously completely distressed. "Please tell me these are yours!".
Now please note, the panties in question were not anything obscene. They were standard issue underwear. No thongs, no lace, no inscription. They were run of the mill underwear with no special markings what so ever. They just didn't have any cartoon animal thrust upon them. No Power Puff Girls or Hilary Duff or Scoobie Doo markings were to be found.
"Why yes, of course they are mine", and I get the I'm not buying it look accompanied by "These look a little small for you and I don't recognize them".
Me ~ "Who's would they be then? Have you been bringing strange panties home and what do you mean they look a little small?"
Mr. W ~ "Are you sure they don't belong to Eldest?"
Me ~ "Do they have any butterflies or cartoon characters on them?"
Mr. W ~ "No, but they don't look like yours. No, they do look like yours, but smaller and I haven't seen them before".
Me ~ "They are mine, dude. Do you need me to try them on to prove it? Give them to me".
I was handed the underpants in question and quickly put them on over my clothes. They were a more perfect fit than Cinderella's glass slipper.
Me ~ Now do you believe me?
Mr. W ~ Yeah. I just don't remember those.
At this point I just break out laughing and confess, "Yes, Mr. W, these do belong to Eldest and you better watch those 'these look too small' comments. You got what you deserved."
He went back to folding laundry, completely deflated that his little girl isn't so little and agreed to never again question what underwear belonged to whom. When in doubt, they are Moms.
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