Grey Clouds

Daughter 2 has bought white jeans. She won’t let me wash them. She takes them to face time friend’s mum to wash. I’m offended. You turn all my white things grey, mum and these cost me a month’s money. I pull a face. Face time friend’s mum doesn’t mix her whites and her darks, she continues, nailing the coffin.

It is true and I do have a reputation. I admit to representing my country in a pink tracksuit – much to the amusement of the England Taekwon-do squad. As soon as I saw the white tracksuit with St. George’s cross adorning the left hand side, I knew that I was doomed, before even stepping foot inside the ring.

Underwear is a nightmare. I once turned daughter 4’s first bra so grey, that she preferred it to the white.

Back to the jeans and daughter 2 asks me if she can do her own washing from now on. Every grey cloud has a silver lining.

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