The Greatest Load of Laundry

At our cozy little home on the lake, we have a pint-sized laundry machine and dryer squeezed into a cracker-jack box of a room. The small-sized loads that the machine will allow obligate me to do one load of laundry each day in order to keep up. No big deal, it's accessible and has become routine.

The third day following the arrival of Henry, I finally got around to doing a load of laundry. I opened the dryer door and mindlessly started pulling out material to get some folding done. I yanked the first item straight down to begin the fold, and had to catch my breath. Manly brown and white with sewn puppies, warm and soft from the dryer, and about the length of my forearm: Henry's first sleeper. I have had a baby boy! Picturing his little body fillling out the fabric as he slept in the next room, for some reason this nightly chore becomes an incredibly emotional first-time event. I remember doing Amelia's first load of laundry and being shocked by the euphoria; pulling out a river of tiny pink fabric pieces and savoring the fold of each one.

As I continued to fold the new little manly items mixed in with our usual clothes, I couldn't help but see this as a kind of personal welcoming ceremony that I was holding for Henry. There will only ever be one first load of laundry where your child's dirty laundry will get cleaned for the first time; and this is the Greatest Load of Laundry.