Tomorrow is trash day. I realized this as I walked by Ann's stained flower pillow. It isn't machine washable.
She was already in bed.
Do you see where I'm going with this?
I tossed the pillow into the already full trash can. The hot pink pillow was hanging out of the lid while I finished cleaning up the kitchen.
I wasn't too concerned that Ann would see it since she hardly ever gets out of bed once we've put her to bed.
Bet you can still see where I'm going with this.
Yup. Tonight, she came downstairs to complain of a leg ache.
As she was telling me her leg hurt, she glanced in the direction of the trash can.
She asked me what her pillow was doing in the trash. I knew I couldn't lie, but how could I tell the truth? I mean what kind of mother throws her daughter's semi-special pillow in the trash just because she doesn't want to hand wash it?
So, I did the only thing I could think of. I looked at her with a puzzled expression that hopefully looked like I was just as confused as her. Then, I grabbed it out of the trash can and brushed it off.
I handed it to her while trying to not think about all of the germs that might now be on her pillow. Oh well, perhaps she'll build her little immune system while she dreams.