Mouse cannot stand to have dirty clothes on. You would think this would be a blessing, and if you voice that opinon in my house too loudly, you will be escorted to the laundry room to deal with the pile of tiny pink clothes. It would make more sense if she was generally clean in her person, but I've seen her freak out about spots of yogurt on her clothes, while her face looks like she's got a new probiotic masque from Elizabeth Arden. I think I'm going to cave in and just allow her to run around totally starkers, which is what she really wants to do.
The only good news is that Mouse doesn't make me pick up dirty clothes. After ripping her offending outfit off, she dutifully brings it over to the laundry chute and tosses it in.
Followed by her diaper.
And her shoes.
And my shoes.
And any toys lying around.
And maybe my cell phone, if she can reach it, along with my keys.
What this means is that whenever anything is lost in the house, the first place I look is on top of the laundry pile.
I suppose I should be thankful that the furniture is too big to fit down there, or we'd all be sitting on the floor.
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