Anybody want a donkey?

I’ve joked that all my self-control is often used up in not killing my children. Now, of course, I would never inflict bodily harm on any of any of them, but if Michael had been within striking distance Tuesday morning when I opened the washing machine, I may very well have knocked his block off.

He’s been known to place various objects in the light fixture in our entryway.  I’ve seen a rubber ducky, Pooh Bear and even a pair of pj pants in the light. More often than not I find myself glancing up just to see if Michael has put anything else in there. Apparently, the light fixture is passé. He’s moved on to the washing machine.

This is what my laundry room looked like when I entered it Tuesday morning:

A tad messy but nothing too out of the ordinary.

This is what I found when I opened the lid:

I actually jumped back, hit my hip on the hamper and screamed. Out loud. Like a little girl.

Michael was driving when this occurred and despite our rule that he not talk while behind the wheel, I called him to give him a piece of my mind. His windows were down so he couldn’t hear me well, but he caught enough to know I’d found Don Key.

This was, of course, the response he was looking for, so I suspect I’ll be finding Don Key in other places very soon. I just wish I’d find him in the Goodwill pile.