Last night I was in a hurry to get out the door.
While the kids were at Awana, Andy watched a movie and I spent the time working on a photo album. We cut it pretty close and I knew that we needed to get going so that we weren't late to pick them up.
I changed clothes, we got outside and into the car when I realized that I needed to get John a shirt. We were planning to go to In n Out to grab dinner, and he doesn't like to wear his Awana shirt out and about (I don't blame him). I exclaimed something about not getting there on time, jumped out of the car, ran back into the house and headed up to the boys' room.
I hadn't actually been in their room all day...I quickly discovered that it was a mess. There were clothes everywhere! (I think there's something in the eleven and twelve year old brain that makes it impossible to use a hamper.)
Still in a hurry, I headed over to John's dresser, looked around on the floor, picked up the first half crumpled shirt that I found and...I sniffed it! Yep, I totally did. It was passable, so I ran out the door and we headed off for the rest of our evening.
As I was thinking about this later, two things really bothered me.
1. That I actually did the Sniff Test. I mean, really...who does that? College guys in 80's movies? Seriously. I have no idea what possessed me to sniff a shirt from the floor when I could have easily opened his third drawer and pulled out a clean shirt.
2. Even more disturbing to me is the fact that I have a child old enough and big enough that I have to do the sniff test. How did this happen? When did John get taller than me? When did he start turning into a man? Where did my baby go??
Sigh. Time. It just keeps on ticking....