Of Houses and Washing Machines

Just about every wife and mother worry about "vital" equipment failing from time to time. You hear the mini-van making noises on the way to soccer practice and send up a silent prayer that it'll limp through another season. Or the vacuum starts spitting out dust and you immediately go into panic mode and try to clean every hose and nosel in an attempt to unclog whatever is malfunctioning. For me, the "Oh-please-Lord-let-it-last" prayer has been said many times over the washing machine. Between the kids, the dog, and the cloth diapers, that poor machine sees more than it's fair share of work. It's been patched and duck taped more times than I wanted to admit, but when it finally refused to drain water (with a full load of dirty diapers in it), I knew it was time to call in the big guns. Unfortunately, it was Friday afternoon. Nothing is open here, so we had to go all weekend and Monday (public holiday) without a washer. The repair men came and I promise you, I nearly cried when I found out that it would cost more to fix than to buy a new machine. I nearly cried because had I known that on FRIDAY, I would have made a plan. But everything got sorted out, Todd met me for a washing-machine-hunting lunch and soon, I was back in the business of cleaning dirty clothes.

The box from the machine, however, became of great interest to the shorter members of the Leslie house. So Todd obliged and cut out a door, windows (because apparently Cooper isn't too keen on being in the dark) and even attached a Coleman lantern for the kids. There are times when you're so thankful you keep the camera out and ready, just in case, and this was one of those times. The giggles and laughter that can only come from a too-tall Daddy squeezing into a too-small house for the sake of his kids, brought me away from my sewing machine and I stumbled onto the most beautiful scene...

of my family crammed into the washing machine box/house reading and playing with blocks.

Daddy was a good sport and kept reading, even through the elbows, knees and other boney appendages that kept stabbing him in the ribs, stomach, and thighs.

Not sure how much longer the house can withstand the constant abuse but I'm pretty sure this is something the I'll look back on fondly for a long time to come... and Todd will be nursing the bruises almost as long!