I have no idea...got home this evening and went upstairs to change out of my work clothes. This is a normal routine for me, although I haven't had to during my last 2 weeks of vacation. For whatever reason, Evan decides he also needs to change his clothes. Looking at the laundry basket of clothes waiting to be folded, another one that's full enough to go into the washer, and knowing that all the sheets will be waiting on top of the washer when I get home on Friday, I say no. He doesn't listen. I come out of my room and find him in a clean SHORT-SLEEVE shirt. The wind is whipping around our house and seeping through our relatively new double-pane gas-filled windows and insulating blinds and Evan wants to run around in a t-shirt. No. I make him put back on his 'old' shirts and all the while he's screaming "No! These shirts are killing me!!"
Umm...?? It's the same undershirts and long-sleeves he's been wearing for 3 months now. Why are they suddenly killing him? How exactly does one get 'killed' by a shirt?
Maybe I need to teach him how to do laundry...if he can make coffee, then surely he should be able to do laundry.