Disclaimer: This post is rated “SG” for “Super Gross” content

You know all those cute poems and thoughts about little boys? Adorable limericks about puppy dogs, dirt, and frogs. Well, let me tell you, there is more.

oh. so. much. more.

Today I’d like to pose this question: why must their clothing come with pockets?  Pockets to a little boy are for treasure storing(forgetting).  So I am constantly ridding our washing machine of rocks, acorns, and buttons to the enthusiastic cries of, “Oh, wow! I’ve been looking for that!” followed by a sheepish, “Sorry mom.”

Connor used to pack his pockets with food. Hours after breakfast I would find him munching scrambled eggs he had fished out of his pockets. That was slightly better than discovering it for myself when it was time to do laundry. Days later. Don’t worry, he broke himself of that habit. He stopped packing his pockets with food when he accidentally ate pocket lint.  Apparently that was just unpalatable.

Unfortunately, days old food is so not the worst little boy pocket content explosion in our washing machine.  Hmm…probably shouldn’t have used the word “explosion” for this story, too disgusting(accurate).  The other day I washed some of the boys filthy playclothes from a day playing in the dirt. I started pulling the laundry from the washer into the dryer.  Other things were coming out  too. Bits. Pieces. Wha…? At first I thought a really loaded Kleenex was left in a pocket.  Or one of those sticky hands kids get in little vending machines.  My squeamish tummy tried to tell my curious brain to stop trying to figure it out.  It wouldn’t be worth it. If my belly had been in charge, we would have put the washing machine (laundry and all) on Craigslist and started looking through the classifieds for a new place to live.  But my brain won out and the excavating continued. Until I found it’s head.

I cannot begin to describe how much I cried(vomited) at the passing of the critter. What the heck could I do?  That giant jurassic era lizard was now with us forever in our hearts and in the sinew stuck to our jeans.  I rewashed that load of laundry until those clothes were threadbare and our water bill nearly got us expelled from our drought suffering town. Zeke was utterly shocked that the lizard had suffered such a violent demise.  In his defense, the rocks that go through the wash always come out nice and shiny, and I always make him wash his hands after playing with creatures from the great outdoors because they are dirty and may be carrying diseases.  I would like to imagine there was a logical thought process there.

More likely he was just being a boy with pockets.