Megan is packing up for a busy afternoon. 7th grade busy. Track try outs straight to riding lessons.
She comes downstairs. The clock reads 6:26 am. I’m already at the table with breakfast before me. In the middle of peeling my egg, Megan appears before me with an armload of clothes. “You should be a professional organizer.” I say as I am about to take a bite of waffle. Megan lifts up a black sweatshirt to fold it and an unmentionable falls out and onto the table. Yes, an unmentionable.
Megan and I just look at the bra, look at each other and laugh. No words need to be exchanged. The appearance of the unmentionable at breakfast needs no introduction.
Time is of the essence each morning so Megan continues packing and I continue eating. The unmentionable remains right in the middle of the table.
Grace finally graces us with her presence. With sleep still in her eyes and voice, Grace asks, “Why is there a bra on the table????” She who typically remains speechless over breakfast asks quickly.
“Well,” Megan chuckles, “I got a sweatshirt hanging in the laundry room and the bra was underneath and I went to fold the sweatshirt and the bra fell out! And that is why there’s a bra is on the table.”
“Oh.” Grace says.
We each return to eating our breakfast accompanied by the unmentionable.
I return home that afternoon and the unmentionable is still there. I moved it before dinner.