We went shopping the other day. I was looking at some clothes for Ethan while my mind was still trying to figure out why he keeps on growing although he is not eating.
Then his father came by asking me to go see what Ethan was doing.
Without a slight thought, I figured he had probably swept all the well-folded sweaters from the shelf to floor, or pulled all the hangers and scattered them all over the place. I was swearing his father in my head, “Why the hell it has to be me to deal with it!”
Then here he was taking the footballs from the basket one at a time and lining them along the floor, grouping within the similar pattern, facing the same direction.
You father was rolled his eyes over me, “He’s just as fussy as you are.”