Today my Skater Dude went off to his sixth grade trip for a 3-day, 2-night science/environmentalism adventure. And he packed for himself. I credit my poor parenting skills.
You see, I forget things when I pack. Like a toothbrush for Bulldog. Or pajamas for the Big Girl. Or a swimsuit for Skater. That happened on a beach vacation. (Um, that’s happened more than once.) I know this never happens to you, and I’m glad for you, I really am. But it happens to me. A lot.
So from my benign neglect he’s learned. He’s learned to lay out his clothes. To double-check and to bring extra. By the time I reminded him that “we” should start to pack, he’d laid out all his things. When we did the checklist, the only thing he needed was a pajama shirt, extra socks, and a duffle bag to put it all in. He even put in a snuggie!
So proud, but now I’m afraid to look at the official packing list, which he said he didn’t need to consult. Because maybe he’s inherited his father’s preparedness gene and also my forgetfulness gene…