The other morning, as the temperature gauge scraped tooth and nail up to a balmy one degree, my thirteen-year-old appeared in the kitchen wearing shorts.

“It’s too cold to go to school in shorts,” I said.  “You need pants and a jacket.”

“Well, I don’t have any pants,” Thirteen said, completely ignoring the jacket statement because he has yet to wear a jacket to school to date.  He owns a coat.  I bought it; I’ve seen it; I’ve lifted it off the mudroom hook more than once and handed it to him.  However, there must be something disgusting that happens when a middle schooler puts on a jacket because I’ve watched dozens, maybe even hundreds, of them slog into school with a grump on their face, a backpack slung over one shoulder, and nary a coat to be seen for miles around.  Winter beanies?  On every head.  Choppers (leather mittens)?  More than a baker’s dozen.  Winter jacket?  Barf, no.

“You have lots of pants,” Kyle said to the child who has lots of pants.  “Did you look in the laundry room?”

Thirteen sighed and went back upstairs.  After an enthusiastic amount of banging around, he reemerged wearing pants.

“Thank you very much,” I said.  “You look very handsome and you will be happy to be nice and warm at school.”

Thirteen sighed again.

“I have lots of pants, too!”  Nine, who had been sitting in the living room in his winter coat, beanie, mittens, shoes, and backpack for the past thirty minutes, said helpfully.  “And I’ve been wearing these socks for two days!”

“Go upstairs right now and change your socks,” I said.

“But if I change my socks, then you need to wash my socks,” Nine said.

“That’s the point,” I said.

Nine sighed and went back upstairs.  After an enthusiastic amount of banging around, he reemerged wearing what looked to be the exact same socks.

“Are those the same socks?”  I asked.

“No,” Nine said.

“Let me smell them,” Kyle said.

“FINE,” Nine said, stomping back upstairs.  Thirteen sat down at the table and began to eat his breakfast.

“Well, I don’t have any socks!”  Nine yelled from his room.

“You have lots of socks,” Kyle said to the child who has lots of socks. 

“Well, I don’t like any of them!”  Nine yelled back.

Now it was Kyle’s turn to sigh.  He went upstairs.  Thirteen continued to eat.  I stood at the kitchen counter.  Finally, Kyle and Nine came back downstairs.

“We found some socks, but some of the other socks are still missing,” Kyle said.

“Socks have a habit of disappearing into another plane of existence,” I said; and then, when Nine looked a little too sad, continued, “Maybe they will turn up.”

That night, after dinner, I went down to the basement to see if Nine had accidentally (but really more like accidentally on purpose) left a pair of socks near the sauna.  When we moved into the house three years ago, I basically turned the basement over to the boys with a “Go with God” salute and a Las Vegas-style agreement that whatever crap lives in the basement, stays in the basement – meaning the basement is usually in some form of absolute shambles.

That evening, the basement was in a hockey-and-Playmobile-pirate-ship form of absolute shambles.  I said nothing as I carefully stepped over nets, pucks, a wrestling mat, Kyle, a pirate ship sail, blankets, Thirteen and Nine, every pillow in the universe, and several dishes in spite of the #1 rule of the basement: all dishes and foodstuff wrappers must come back up to the kitchen in the same calendar day.  However, when I came to the door of the sauna I had to say something because Thirteen had piled our two oversized bean bags on top of one another in the doorway in order to clear more room (I feel compelled to note that moving the pillows would have had the same effect).

“Would you move the bean bags for me, please?”  I asked Thirteen.  

“Nerr,” he said (which is the new way for teenagers to say “No” because “No” is the winter jacket of adverbs to teenagers) before complying – lifting the first one and tossing it across the room.  Between the two bean bags were two pairs of socks, a sweatshirt, and a pair of underpants.

“Looky here!”  I said to Nine, pointing to the clothes.  “Missing no more!”

“Yay!”  Nine said.  “Those aren’t my underpants.”

“Whose underpants are they?”  I asked.

“Maybe yours?”  He said.

“Not mine,” I said, but everyone had gone back to whatever they were doing.

Thirteen moved the other bean bag, revealing another pair of socks smushed into the carpet.

“Okay, friends,” I said.  “This is the exact number of clothing items to trigger a basement cleanup.”

Kyle, Thirteen, and Nine sighed, but got up and started putting things in their place.  The room was tidy in less than 15 minutes.  In that time, we found five more pairs of socks, a towel, and another pair of underwear, this time belonging to Nine.

“Isn’t it nice to have the room clean?”  I asked the boys as we tossed the last pillow on the couch.

“Yerr,” Thirteen said (which is the opposite of “Nerr”).

“And isn’t it nice to have your socks?”  I asked Nine.

“Yerr,” Nine said.

“In the future, you need to bring your socks up to the laundry room,” Kyle said.

“Nerr,” Nine said.  “But okay, if I remember.”

“You’re going to need to remember,” I said.

“Remembering socks is hard,” Nine said, rolling back over to the pirate ship.

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The photo above was taken on my birthday.  Kyle wanted me to use a photo of the basement but I wasn’t sure how many pairs of underpants were strewn down there so I decided to play it safe.

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This week on North Dakota Today we talked about Dr. Kari Torkelson, my Nice Person of the Week, as well as an interesting fact about North Dakota. (Valley News Live)

The West Fargo Sheyenne High School “Prom Shop” is now open for (free) business. (Valley News Live)

Minot’s Rex Sisco is much-loved by his two- and four-legged friends in Minot. (Minot Daily News)

Last week, a group of brave Fargo-Moorheadians were “Freez’n for a Reason” in support of area vets. (KFYR TV; Found from “Oops Only Good News”)

Remember the Greater Grand Forks Milk Depot from a past segment on ND Today?  A mom named Alyssa just donated 402 ounces of milk! (Facebook)

After 40 years as a teacher and a coach, Moorhead’s Karin Schumacher will be recognized with a Special Merit Award on National Girls and Women in Sports Day. (Fargo Forum)

A Glenfield sheep named Pollyanna is now the mother of six newborn lambs. (KFYR TV)

Wyndmere’s Amber Fyre is the recipient of the Presidential Award of Excellence for Math and Science Teaching. (Fargo Forum; Found from “Oops Only Good News”)

 

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