In all honesty, I can only recommend that you proceed with today's WFMW tip at your own peril. If your husband is anything like mine (hyper-logical to a degree that is both endearing and maddening), he may be shaken to his very core.
The idea is simple. Our bedrooms are all upstairs. But I keep all the kids' socks downstairs, in a drawer in the living room.
Too many times, we were ready to dash out the door, when the whole getting-ready process screeched to a HALT as my little creatures realized they needed to put on socks first. And so they meandered upstairs, pausing to flush the toilet, rearrange the Lego box, unmake their bed, hang their dirty underwear on a lamp, etcetera, etcetera.
Actually, I have no idea what they were doing up there. I just know that it took too long, and more often than not, they came back downstairs with a blank-eyed look and NO SOCKS.
So I moved the socks into a downstairs drawer, and it has carved a significant chunk of time off the getting-ready process.
But it has nearly driven my adorably logical husband into a mental institution. Socks are clothes, he reasons, and clothes should all be kept together--they just must!--it surely must be in the Bible somewhere! It seriously drives him nuts.
In fact, shortly before my Africa trip, when I was having one of my many emotional breakdowns about dying in a fireball over the Atlantic, I tearfully asked Hubs, "What would you do--WHAT WOULD YOU DO?--if I die and force you to raise our children alone?" He did not miss a beat. "I would move the socks upstairs," he said.
See? At your own peril, my friends.
We have formed a tentative peace on this, based largely on the fact that I--not he--is responsible for the adorning of our children's feet seven minutes before the school bell rings.
But I'm watching my back.
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