Not my Comfy Pants!

Obviously, we eventually had the entire house packed up and ready to be loaded onto the truck. It was nothing short of a miracle. Although, to be honest, there were some loose items being tossed into the truck at the end of it all. My dreams of a massive purge never really materialized as every last item in the house seemed to make its way into a box, albeit rather randomly at the end.

The night we loaded the truck my main job was to keep the kids out of the way. With nothing to play with and nowhere to sit, it was not an easy task. And then, of course, there was Hannah’s superbly dramatic reaction to anything of hers going onto the truck. Tears. Flailing arms. Gnashing of teeth. When her dresser was loaded, she was beside herself. “Are my clothes going on the truck?” I replied in the affirmative. She freaked out. “Not my comfy pants! I don’t want my comfy pants on the truck!”

Her comfy pants? Out of everything to be upset about, her comfy pants nearly broke her. I had to remove her from the scene. I can’t wait to see her reunion with her beloved pants in the new house. There might be balloons. Or confetti.

Next up: Cottage Horrors.