Wash. Dry. Fold. Repeat.

Last week on vacation Piper and I spent a lot of time at a local children’s museum. On a rainy day, it was exactly what we needed. (In case you’re ever in Harrisonburg, Virginia, here it is: http://www.iexploremore.com/cms/Home/tabid/36/Default.aspx. I highly recommend it.)

Nobody does a children’s museum like Piper. There isn’t a toy she won’t play with. Upon arrival, she runs around touching and examining everything until she decides on the one spot where she will spend the next six hours. This time it was the kitchen.

“It’s just like a real kitchen!” Piper exclaimed.

And it was. A life size refrigerator, full cabinets, a dishwasher, table for serving, and laundry facilities within an arm’s reach. What more could a domestic goddess desire? The fruit and vegetable market was just a short walk from your fake front porch. It was all pretty darn cute. It gave me a terrible itch. The last thing I want to do on my vacation is spend a day trapped in a pretend kitchen “cooking” and “cleaning.”

“You can do the laundry! Just like at home. You’re ALWAYS doing laundry there. Now you can do it here,” Piper said. “Won’t that be fun?”

I gritted my teeth and assessed my chores.

Then I began my work, just like at home. I take my linens seriously.

Then Piper discovered unchartered territory. “What’s this?” she asked, sizing up a tiny ironing board. I hesitated. She’s so young. Why force her to grow up so soon?

“It’s an ironing board,” I said. “You use the iron to take the wrinkles out of the clothes.”

Piper’s eyes were huge. I’m proud to say she’s never seen me iron. She moved so fast in her excitement I could hardly get a picture. She grabbed the pile of linens I had carefully folded and began “ironering” out their wrinkles.

“My tutu won’t need ironering, though,” Piper said.  “It’s already perfect.”