Kids are so honest...

The other day, I was cleaning the house (a likely story,) with my four-year old kind of following me around as I went. I was wearing some old sweats, a t-shirt that was a bit shorter than I would wear in public (I’m certain it shrunk in the dryer, and it wasn’t that I had grown in any way shape or form)…and some flip-flops. This is my typical “maid” uniform. Whatever works…I’m not going to win any beauty pageants or anything, right?

Ok, so I’m in the kitchen cleaning out the sink with Comet (plug for Comet) when I feel two little hands on the top of my waistband. With a swift tug, these little hands proceeded to hike up the material of my sweat pants to about naval level. I looked down, and Kelton (the culprit) had this serious look of determination. I said nothing and just watched as he went around my entire torso lifting every inch of fabric up to an appropriate height, even though I was receiving quite a wedgy by this time.

When he was satisfied that his work was done, trying not to laugh, I asked, “What’cha doin’ buddy?” He replied, “Fixing you.”

Apparently, he didn’t want to see any of that.

I’d like to think he was looking out for me, helping me be modest, for my best interest. But I think, he was just looking out for his.

Kids are so honest.