It was eighteen minutes past seven one sunny Monday morning when my ten-year-old son charged into the kitchen, his favorite pair of jeans in hand.
“Can you wash these for me quick?”
The bus for his long-awaited school trip was scheduled to leave in exactly twenty-seven minutes.
Obviously the child had no understanding of the laundering process.
“We have a microwave oven, but they haven’t invented a microwave washing machine yet,” I answered calmly. “Go pick out another pair of pants.”