Life's a Stitch

I had occasion to call my adult children recently. We had been away quite a bit this fall and there were many comings and goings of said children and acquaintances in our house during our absence. Finally tackling the laundry basket of clean linens that had lived at the foot of our bed for months, something on the floor caught my eye, black…lacy…panties. As if they had fallen from our bed at some point onto the floor, definitely not mine.

I call my children and my husband, just in case.

"Nobody is in trouble….yet." I explain the un-Nancy Drewlike caper of the wayward panties. "I don't need to know names. I don't want the dirty details. I just want someone to tell me that there is a plausible explanation.

My son cracks up, didn't need a phone to hear his peals of laughter from five miles away. Hmmmm nervous laughter? "Better ask the sisters," says he, "definitely did not sleep in your room while you were gone." 

"Right" says the husband, "I had a woman  in our bedroom while you were away dealing with your mother's death, impressing her with the laundry that hasn't been put away in months." I really didn't think it was him and his words were reassuring,

Middle daughter matter of factly said "I slept in your bed. Alone."

"They're mine," claimed the most unusual suspect of our family, the least likely member of the crew. Eldest child, then seven months pregnant, the cinderella of the lost panties, related the truthful tale. Her wedding photographer from six years past offers free baby bump photos to former clients. The instructions included the wearing of fancy foundations. After the long drive there and back, my daughter took a leisurely bath in our soaker tub, undressing at the foot of the bed. 

Phew. Only in our house.

That was then and now we're on babywatch. Exciting times ahead.