So, to shorten the story, I hate ironing, don't do it, and everyone knows it.
Okay, there's more. Rodney had an interview and asked if I'd iron his "interview" uniform, as I call it. Otherwise known as shirt, tie, dress slacks (otherwise known as pants). Why are dress pants called slacks? Why don't we use that word anymore? My kids don't know what slacks are, they looked at me like I had two heads. Oh, I digress, yet again. Okay, so I pulled out the ironing board, saying "here's something you guys don't see often", and my youngest comes into the kitchen and said "what in the world is that thing?" Yea, I really don't iron. I told him its an ironing board, and the thing on it getting hot with a point and a button for smoke stuff (his description) was an iron. "What's that for?" Okay, now realizing I really set a bad example. I explained what its all for, and proceeded to iron, having a captivated audience in Zac (by the way, that's how we spell his name shortened now, decided by the man himself), and I was feeling pretty good, thinking why don't I do this more often, look how nice this looks! Well, my moment came to an end 2 seconds later when, as I went to shift to a new spot, the pant leg I wasn't ironing landed in the dog water bowl. Riiiiiiight, that's why I hate it, I'm way too uncoordinated and the minute something looks good it looks bad. Enter darling 9yo. "Whoa, now that's something we don't see often". Did I mention a friend had arrived at that point? I was trying to look natural at what I was doing, trying to get that serene feeling that Mrs. Cleaver seemed to always have doing housework in spite of the dog bowl incident minutes earlier, and in walks M with her truth shattering opinion. Its okay, Jen knows me well enough, anyway to have known the truth. ;)
PS The ironing board is still in the kitchen, now piled with school books, papers, and stickers. Makes a great storage place for lapbooking supplies!!